


Restored

by quantum_leek



Series: Shattered Dreams [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Action, Alternate Timelines, Battle for Insomnia, F/M, Fix-It, Gen, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2019-12-07 07:15:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 58
Words: 72,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18231641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quantum_leek/pseuds/quantum_leek
Summary: [WARNING: Summary contains major plot spoilers for Remnants]Reina Lucis Caelum lived ten years of darkness awaiting her brother's return, at the end of which time... she woke up on May 15th, 756. The day before her father died. Now, against her father's orders, she returns to Insomnia with Noctis and co in tow, armed with the knowledge of everything that will occur in the next two days. But the future is fluid and the waking world isn't quite the same as the Dream she's been living for ten years. Every choice she makes changes the future and this time she can't see it.





	1. Noctis, Waking Up

She screamed.

Few things could wake Noctis from a dead sleep, but his sister screaming was one of them.

"Rei—?" On his way out of the tent, he stepped on Gladio's face, tripped over Ignis, and dragged himself over Prompto—still asleep.

Why the fuck didn't legs work in the mornings? This was why he always slept in.

It was pitch black outside. Real weird sleeping under the stars with no Wall between them and the sky. Nights were too dark, out here. Gladio's campfire had died down to just embers and Reina was sitting in one of the chairs in the fire circle.

By the time Noctis reached her, she wasn't screaming anymore—she had only done that once, loud enough to wake everyone else. She was sitting bunched up in one of the camp chairs by the dead fire. It wasn't cold, but she was shaking. Nothing around to scream about, either, but it hadn't stopped her.

He shoved his hair out of his eyes and forced his voice to work. "Hey. Rei. Wake up."

Ignis headed the others out of the tent.

"What's up?" Gladio hid a yawn behind his hand.

"A dream, perhaps?" Ignis looked real weird without his glasses on.

"Yeah…" said Noct.

He leaned over her chair. She was motionless—at a glance, she was only sleeping—but if she punched him again for trying to wake her up…

"Rei? Reina? Can you hear me?" He poked her shoulder and prepared to duck. "Hey."

Nothing.

No, wait—something.

"No… no, no,  _no, no, NO!"_ She twisted her head back and forth, tucking her chin under and leaning back in her chair.

Yeah. She did that, too.

"Reina-a-a. Hey. Reina. Wake up." Against his better judgement, he grabbed her shoulders and gave her a solid shake.

The good news was she didn't punch him in the nose. The bad news was she didn't wake up, either.

She squirmed in his hands, pushing him away.

Shit. Dad always woke her up. Noct never could— _no one_ ever could except Dad.

"Come on, Rei, you gotta wake up." Noctis wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tight like Dad sometimes did.

She stopped trying to get away. He pressed his cheek to her head and she grabbed onto his arms. That was a good sign, right? That meant she was waking up?

Ignis was standing on the other side of her chair. He had put his glasses on—thank the Gods.

"Is she awake?" Noctis asked.

Ignis shook his head.

Shit. Okay. Right. What else did Dad do? There were some words he always said.

"No…" Reina writhed. "I have to go back—I have to—"

She pushed against his chest, but Noctis held firm. "Hey, Reina, it's alright—you're  _safe_."

That wasn't what Dad said, but it seemed to help. She quieted, even if she didn't wake up. Noctis leaned back, grabbing her shoulders. Only one other thing he could think to do.

" _Reina_." He tried to sound like Dad, tried to reach that level of command he always had. "Look at me, Reina. Just me, nothing else.  _See me._ "

When Dad said those words, she always woke up. Her eyes would flutter open and she would look at him in a daze. And she always said the same thing:

'Father?'

To which he always said, 'Just me.'

Noct wasn't sure if he was allowed to say the last part—it was a bit of a lie and she would definitely punch him in the face for that—but he was spared the trouble of finding out. She held onto his arms, breathing rapidly, and slept on.

Shit.

"So… what do we do…?" Prompto asked.

Noctis shook his head, then his sister. "I don't know. Dad  _always_ wakes her up."

"What happens if His Majesty isn't here?" Gladio asked.

"Dunno. She's never woken up without him. I guess… maybe she'll wake up when it's over."

Hopefully.

"She does not, at least, appear to be under great duress," said Ignis. In other words, she wasn't screaming her head off, which was an improvement from some other nights. "Perhaps we should put her in the tent and wait?"

"Yeah…" said Noct.

What else were they going to do?

Gladio carried her into the tent and they waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Dawn came.

Reina cried out several more times but, no matter what he tried, Noct couldn't wake her. Nothing would wake her but Dad. He knew that, now, because desperation put that bucket of water in his hands and nothing had happened. She hadn't even stopped screaming. It was as if her soul wasn't even in her body, anymore; she was an empty shell, reacting to things that were happening to someone else.

Noctis paced the length of the camp, running his fingers through his hair. She was quiet, again, but that didn't mean anything.

Prompto was sitting in his chair by the fire pit, legs crossed ankle over knee, jiggling his foot and worrying at a loose thread on his pants. Gladio stood outside the tent with his arms crossed, looking between Rei and the Regalia down on the road. Ignis was immobile as statue, one arm folded over his stomach, the other hand on the bridge of his glasses like seeing helped him think. So far it hadn't done them any good.

Reina had never Dreamed this long, before.

Prompto asked the question they were all wondering.

"What do we do if she never wakes up?"

Gladio looked at Ignis. Ignis looked at Noctis. Noctis pulled at his hair.

Shit shit  _shit_.

"Call my dad."

"His Majesty may not be available," Ignis said.

"Just do it, alright? Just get ahold of him, whatever you have to do, because she has  _never_ Dreamed this long and I don't know if she  _can_ wake up without him."

Ignis was pulling out his phone when Noctis ducked back into the tent. Reina was motionless. Except for her weird position—and the fact that her clothes, hair, and sleeping bag were all pretty soaked (which had a completely reasonable explanation)—he might have thought she was just sleeping. But her eyes moved rapidly behind shut eyelids. She wasn't breathing like people usually did when they were asleep—slow and steady and relaxed. It was shallow and fast.

"Come on, Reina… you gotta wake up…"

From outside the tent: "No answer."

"Well try again," said Gladio "I'm gonna try my dad."

"As an alternative: I will try to reach my uncle. He is often at His Majesty's side."

"Sure, just do it."

Then silence again. Noctis shook her shoulders, half-heartedly.

Gladio broke the silence: "Dad. Can you get King Regis on the phone?"

Noctis stopped breathing. He sat back on his heels and looked toward the open tent flap.

"No, Noct's fine. It's Reina. She won't wake up."

Gladio's head appeared in the tent opening. He held out his phone and Noctis scrambled to take it.

"Dad?"

" _Noctis. Tell me."_

"It's Rei, Dad—I can't wake her up. I tried everything and she won't budge."

The line was quiet.

"Can we bring her back?" Noct asked, "We're not that far—"

" _No. You must not return to Insomnia, Noctis."_

Noct bit back a sound of frustration. If he didn't want them coming back just because he didn't want to ruin the weight of the words 'once you go forth, you cannot turn back,' Noctis was for sure punching someone.

"Then what? What if she never wakes up? You're the only one who can get her out of this! She's never done it by herself."

Reina winced. Her face twisted and her body twitched and recoiled like she was in pain.

" _Hold the phone to her ear."_

This was never going to work. But what the hell, nothing else had, either. Noctis did it. He cranked the volume up to max, first. It was loud enough that he could hear his dad's voice even though the receiver was against Reina's ear.

" _Reina? Listen to me, Reina. Just me, nothing else. Hear me."_

How the  _hell_ did he turn everything into a command? It wasn't a request. It wasn't even an 'obey me or else…' it was an ' _obey me_ ,' with no 'or else' because  _not_ wasn't an option.

Reina shifted. Her head turned toward the phone.

No way. No fucking way.

"Father?"

Noctis almost dropped the phone. Her eyes fluttered once, twice.

" _Just me, my dear. Welcome back."_

Reina blinked, finally focusing. Then her gaze flicked toward Noct.

And she jerked upright.

He  _did_ drop the phone.

"Noctis."

"Uh. Yeah—"

" _Father—!_ " She scrambled for the phone he had dropped—it was only a little wet—and pressed it to her ear. "Father?!"

" _I swear it on your mother's grave."_

Her face said 'No way. No fucking way,' which was about what Noctis' looked like, too. She touched Noct's cheek and her mouth snapped shut. She looked toward the opening of the tent—still wide-eyed and disbelieving—where three heads had appeared.

"It was a Dream." She was amazed but without any hint of the panic he had expected. "It was all a Dream."

" _Reina. Listen to me, my dear. You are awake, now. You are_ safe _. And you must breathe."_

If Dad had seen her face, he wouldn't have bothered. She wasn't having any trouble breathing. It looked like her mind was running a mile a minute.

"What day is it." More a demand than a question.

"May fifteenth," said Noct.

" _May fifteenth,"_ said their dad.

Her eyes widened and Noct thought  _she_ was going to drop the phone.

"I can stop it," she said.

" _Reina—"_ Dad couldn't get more than her name in.

" _I can stop all of it_."

Her eyes locked onto Noctis. Intense, focused, driven. It wasn't a look he had ever seen on his twin's face before. And he had seen  _every_ look on her face.

"We're going back." She climbed to her feet, still holding Noct's phone, still dripping wet. "Ignis, start the car."

Their dad was still on the phone. " _Reina, no._ Listen to me.  _You must not, under any circumstances, return to Insomnia."_

And that would be that. Reina would back down in the face of a direct order, because she wouldn't disobey him. Never could.

"Nothing you say will change what I must do, Father."

Until… now, apparently.

Noctis hadn't even known her voice could sound like that. What the  _hell_ had she Dreamed?

" _Reina, I know what you have Dreamed—"_

"You only know the half of it, Father. Don't you dare try to stop me from saving your life. I will fix this if it is the last thing I do in this world. I have died once for Lucis. I will do it again."

What—?

" _REINA—!"_ The last time Noct had heard that desperation in their dad's voice, Noctis had been eight and bleeding out.

"I'll see you soon, Father. I love you." She hung up the phone.

Everyone was staring at her.

"I said we're going. Get in the car."

That was the voice. Dad's voice. That one with no 'or else.' They went.

"Wait—" Reina caught Ignis' arm.

He turned to face her. "Your Highness?"

She took his glasses and brushed her fingers over his face—an intimate gesture when she spent so much time insisting she didn't like him.

"Your eyes are beautiful," she said.

Ignis stared at her. "I—ah—thank you—Your Highness—Reina. I have always thought yours were lovely, as well."

If it wasn't all so damn weird, it might have been funny to watch Specs try to string two sentences together.

Reina sighed and handed his glasses back. "Later," she said, maybe to herself. "Now let's go home. As fast as you can take us there, Ignis."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick, go back through Remnants and Fractured and find all the phrases that are bolded. They're all things that Noctis says in this chapter while he's trying to wake her up.


	2. Ignis, Homeward Bound

Screams in the dark.

Ignis hadn't woken in that fashion since they were all quite small. As he understood it, Princess Reina's Dreams had grown less intense with age. Or at least less terrifying. But tonight she had Dreamed as she had not for years and she would wake for none but the king.

When she did, it was as a disparate woman. Only yesterday, she had been homesick, stricken with grief at leaving her father behind, and reticent well beyond her usual reservations. She had awoken resolute, focused, and authoritative. It was similar to the passion with which she took charge when His Majesty's health faltered, but intensified several times over.

She issued orders with a practiced confidence that left no space for alternative: "Get in the car." Of course they went. One did not stare down a coeurl and suggest that she might, perhaps, prefer not to electrocute and eat them.

Reina halted him with one hand on his arm. She took his glasses, reducing the world to a foggy haze; only her face was clear. Doubtless he hallucinated the rest: her fingers soft against his cheeks, tracing lines beneath his eyes. She stared at him as if she had never seen him before—or hadn't expected to again. He couldn't breathe, much less compose a response or a question. Here he had thought she was the only one meant to have such vivid dreams.

She told him his eyes were beautiful.

The way she looked at him was an impossibility he had never allowed himself to consider. He had thought—Reina and Gladio, surely. And yet, it was Ignis whom she pulled aside, Ignis whom she spoke to in that voice—low and intimate and holding so much more than childhood friendship—and it was Ignis whose face she had touched with such familiarity.

Hallucination was the most reasonable explanation.

Had he been a better man, he would have articulated an eloquent response. Instead he found himself wishing his brain would turn to soup in that instant. At least he knew what to do with soup.

He did say something. Doubtless he made a fool of himself, but later he could not remember a single word that spilled from his mouth.

She turned and left him standing, wide-eyed, for what must have been a full minute.

Noct punched his arm. Hallucinations were not meant to hurt. "Come on, lover boy. You driving or what?"

Ignis recalled his mind to his body. "Ah—yes."

Driving. Yes. To Insomnia. As the princess ordered, so it would be.

Ignis stepped one foot before the other all the way down the slope to the Regalia and climbed into the driver's seat. Even with his glasses returned to the bridge of his nose, the world seemed blurry. A glance in the mirror granted him a glimpse of Reina's face, but no further insight on their exchange.

Ignis started the car and pulled onto the road. A few moments of silence ensued, before Noctis put into words what they were all wondering.

"So… you gonna tell us what's going on?"

"I wouldn't know where to start," Reina said.

"Maybe with… why are we going back to Insomnia, even though Dad said not to?"

"Because the empire is coming. And not for peace."

"What?" Noct asked. "You mean they're going to—what—try and take over Insomnia?"

"In a word, yes."

So the treaty was mere pretense. Yet Ignis could not believe that King Regis had been entirely deceived by the ruse, which left but one possibility.

"Your Highness." Ignis eased off the accelerator and the Regalia slowed in response. "Forgive me, but if the Crown City is in danger, is it not possible that the king sent you away expressly to keep you safe?"

"Of course he did," she said. "My father has always suspected that Niflheim meant nothing but ill to come of this treaty. He has only allowed us to believe otherwise to avoid exerting his will overmuch."

"Then I cannot, in good conscience, drive the two of you into danger when His Majesty has forbidden this."

Unless she gave him an excellent reason.

She leaned forward in her seat, half-standing so her face was level with his. The look she gave him might have bored holes in his skull.

And she gave him many.

"If we do not return to Insomnia in time, the entire city falls—our father, Gladio's father, your uncle, and a quarter of the civilians will be dead in forty-eight hours. Niflheim takes over Lucis, but that means very little in the long run. Luna dies in Altissia a few months later." She glanced at Noct. "You never have the chance to speak with her."

Then back to Ignis— "You put on the Ring of the Lucii to save Noct's life. They take your eyes for that and you never see again. You spend years struggling to adapt. Noctis disappears. The sun sets and never rises again—eight years of darkness follow. And in the middle of all of it, just when you think we might make it through, I push you away. I break your heart. In ten years time, when Noct returns, you'll wonder if I'm even human anymore—you'll be right to wonder."

Ignis struggled to keep pace with the stream of information. All of this she had Dreamed in one night? Years of darkness and hints of a relationship between the two of them. He burned to know the full truth but feared to learn it. Even now she wasn't through.

"And when everything is finally over, when we've salvaged what little can be saved of Eos, when less than ten percent of the world's population still lives, when every tree, every plant, every wild animal is  _dead_ , I will take Noctis' place and spill Caelum blood to pay for the dawn. By that time the only thing I will feel is the cold ache of exhaustion and an overwhelming desire to just  _sleep_."

Her gaze burned on him throughout. The others gawked at her; even Ignis pulled his eyes from the road more often than was prudent.

"But  _we can save them all_ , Ignis." When next he looked, she had drawn closer. "I know what to do. Insomnia need never fall. No one has to die. But  _I need your help_."

Ignis pressed his foot to the floor.

They were two hours from Insomnia. They made it in seventy-five minutes, give or take. The ride was silent as each of them mulled over thoughts of the dark future Reina had glimpsed.

Had she really Dreamed years of time? It seemed impossible. She had scarcely spoken of her Dreams in his presence, but Noct had once explained she struggled to distinguish reality from Dream, and that the memories formed of the future were not fleeting, as from any mundane dream. These memories were much the same as waking recollections.

And so she had experienced ten years of time, which would hopefully never occur, and she would never forget.

Small wonder she was different.

The gates of the Crown City loomed ahead. Closed, as they always were. Ignis slowed the Regalia to a halt, and a gate guard advanced with one hand raised.

"Apologies, Your Highnesses," said the guard, "But we have been given explicit instructions from the king, himself, not to allow you entry into the city. You'll have to turn back."

Reina heaved a sigh. "He's as stubborn as I am."

Like Father like daughter. Never could it be said that Reina had not inherited King Regis' legendary stubbornness. As such, the chances of her accepting this dismissal and walking away seemed slim to none. Ignis turned in his seat to look at her.

She held her hand out to Noctis. "Noct, I need you."

"Uh—" He took it after a millisecond of hesitation.

Blue-white light burst from their clasped hands and a hundred strands of magic reached out from Noctis to wrap around Reina. His magic bound to her more intensely than it had to Ignis or any of the others that Noctis had shared his power with.

"Thank you." She released his hand and leaned forward to give him a hasty hug. Then she stood and let herself out over the boot of the Regalia.

Ignis gripped the steering wheel hard. He should have been at her side, but if she had wanted aid she would have asked for it. Even so, he could not fathom how she thought to walk past them. Under the king's orders, they were certain to stop her, regardless of their misgivings about manhandling the princess.

One of the guards lifted his hand as she approached. "Princess Reina, I must insist that you rejoin the others and be on your way. We cannot allow you to pass."

"I wasn't going to ask for permission, but I will give you a choice: step aside and let me drive into the Citadel like a princess, or I will take myself there like a Caelum."

The guard glanced at his companion, brow furrowed.

"I don't believe you can do that, Your Highness." It was almost a question.

"Of course you don't. I always was the well-behaved one." Reina sighed. She glanced back at the car. "I'll have them let you through as soon as I talk some sense into Father."

"Rei—what are you gonna do?" Noct was standing up in his seat.

"What I should have done ten years ago." She turned back around and strode straight toward the guards.

"Your Highness—" Both stood with hands lifted, blocking her path.

One step she was outside of the gate. The next she wasn't. A trail of blue shadows traced the path she hadn't walked, straight through the guards. A frozen second passed before both guards spun around. By then it was much too late. Reina warped again, leaving a vertical blue trail that climbed the gates and vanished inside the Wall; before any of the dozen guards in the vicinity could take a single step toward her she was thirty feet away.

Prompto whistled.

"Damn." Gladio stood in his seat and leaned over Prompto's. "Thought she couldn't warp."

"She couldn't…" Noctis said.

The four of them watched—half shocked and half in awe—as blue streaks cut across the Insomnia skyline, up to the overpass, and straight toward the Citadel.

Ignis cleared his throat. "Over-unders on fifteen minutes?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, kill off the main character, throw out all the feels, and then pull a crazy plot-twist dream trope and all the AO3 readers come out of the woodwork. Uh. Hi. Nice to meet you. I had no idea there were more than two of you on this site. 
> 
> Forgot to mention we're back on Monday-only updates. Sorry about that; I know you all got used to the twice-weekly ones. Even though this story is finished and pretty much edited, it ends in a place that begs a sequel and... I don't... have a sequel written and I can't start until I finished Onus 3. I might be able to finish Onus and get Shattered Dreams 4 started in the time it would take to post this story at a Mon/Fri pace, but I'm going to err on the side of caution here. I figure you'd rather have these weekly chapters and no break between Restored and part 4 than have bi-weekly chapters and an indefinite gap between Restored and part 4. If I get all caught up and a nice head start on the next story, then I'll go back to the Mon/Fri schedule. Until then, Mondays only. Sorry about that. They are shorter chapters, too, so I apologize, but I was more focused on breaking where it made sense than worrying about length.
> 
> So, yes. That's Shattered Dreams part 4 confirmed. No title yet, but there's a long time before anyone needs to worry about that.
> 
> Also, if you haven't checked it out, already, go listen to the Fractured audio drama! You can find it here: https://youtu.be/-HNAqYus5pw. It's 50 minutes long and covers approximately the first 14 chapters of Fractured. A bunch of talented volunteer voice actors put in a lot of work to make this a thing (and let's not talk about the time I spent figuring out how to actually edit audio and perusing sound effects on YouTube), so go listen! It's excellent! (And I don't just say that because I wrote it, I swear.)


	3. Regis, Upon Arrival

A mere two days ago, Regis had bidden farewell to his children for what he knew to be the final time. Though his heart was heavy with deception, the falsehood was their path to safety. A meager legacy he left them: a chance at living long enough to witness darkness fall across Eos. Nevertheless, it was all he could give.

But dawn two days after their departure brought a disquieting phone call.

The imperials were due to arrive that afternoon. Lodgings had been arranged, a reception dinner was planned, and every politician and guard in the city was on high alert. A hundred matters awaited Regis' attention, but all faded to obscurity at Clarus' words:

"What is it? The prince?"

Regis halted mid-step on his bad leg and turned to Clarus. Clarus held out his phone. "It seems Reina will not wake."

Dread pierced his heart. For months he had gone to his bed each night and prayed that Reina would sleep a Dreamless sleep. If, at any time, she had seen the truth of what was to come, she would never have consented to leave his side. Now she had Dreamed, and for the first time in twelve years he had not been present to wake her.

He had no notion of whether or not she could be woken with merely the sound of his voice, nor had he any further ideas if this one should fail. He could not permit her to return to Insomnia. Not after what she must have Dreamed.

In those few seconds between his words and Reina's response, he held his breath and clenched Clarus' phone in his fist.

Words could scarcely describe the sense of relief he felt on hearing her voice—"Father?"—precisely as he had every time before.

But his secondary fears were confirmed. She had Dreamed of Insomnia. She had Dreamed of his death. And she knew, now—in spite of his every effort to keep it from her—what horrors the empire bore to the Crown City.

A day and a half still stood between now and the signing. A day and a half of goodbyes, this time without pretense. A day and a half of witnessing his daughter's mourning. His child. His little girl. The one who had told him he was her best friend. The one who would have given everything for him— _had_ given everything for him. Much as he had never wanted to bring this upon her, he wished to witness it even less. How could he push her away, again, when she begged to be with him? The first time had been nigh unbearable for both of them.

Alas, none of the eventualities that his mind concocted in those few seconds of rising panic could measure up to a fraction of what actually came to pass when he told her not to return to Insomnia.

She said no.

Nearly twenty-one years old and in all that time she had never refused to do as he asked. When she was one year old, tottering and falling on her face in the gardens, she came when he called. When she was five, causing trouble for her nanny because she didn't want to go to school without seeing him, a few words from him sent her on her way. When she was eight, screaming in the night because she couldn't escape a bad Dream he told her to wake and she woke. When she was fourteen and he asked her not to wait for him—though she would have sat doing nothing while he worked all day—she went quietly to dinner with her brother. When she was eighteen, fussing over his health and insisting he couldn't sit in court, he had silenced her with a look.

When she was twenty, he sent her away knowing he would never see her again, knowing she wanted nothing less than to leave his side. And she went.

But today she said no. For the first time in her life, she refused to do as he said.

And, for a few moments, Regis was too shocked to appreciate the full magnitude of what that meant. And then—" _I will fix this if it is the last thing I do"_ —he realized.

She was returning to Insomnia. And if she would not heed him, then she would stand by his side until the bitter end. They could not stop the empire; they could only make it more difficult for Niflheim to get what it wanted. That was contingent upon the prince and princess not being in Insomnia tomorrow night.

He ordered the gates closed to them—every guard in the city was notified that the prince and princess were  _not_ , under any circumstances, to be allowed inside. That would have to do; if she would not listen to reason then he would hold her out by force, much as he loathed it. She would not fight her way in.

"Sire—urgent word from the main gate. It seems that Princess Reina has gained entrance to the city and is on her way here."

"She  _what?_ " Regis rose from his throne; his right knee objected, but he leaned on his cane and pushed the discomfort aside.

How had two dozen gate guards failed to hold one five foot tall young woman at bay?

"The lieutenant on duty says that she warped through before they could stop her. No one has been able to catch up with her, let alone detain her."

She had—

What?

_What?_

"I thought Reina couldn't warp." Clarus was at his elbow.

"She has neither the magic nor the training," Regis said. And yet, here they were all the same. Was he to believe that every guard on duty was lying? Hallucinating?

"Noctis, perhaps…?" Clarus suggested.

It mattered very little how she had accomplished it. More important was how he would convince her to leave. She had disobeyed him once and if she could warp then it stood to reason that she could just as easily evade anyone ordered to escort her out of the city. She would never leave.

But worse than the sense of resignation that was slowly soaking into his soul was the selfish contentment. He would see his daughter again, hold her in his arms, if only once more. And, if he was destined to die here… at least he would do so in good company.

Regis bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. How could he even think that? He would  _not_ allow his daughter to die here.

As it turned out, she had very few regards for his plans.

The throne room doors swung open. The Crownsguards within range made a hasty retreat rather than be bludgeoned by them.

And there she was.

For a moment, Regis made the mistake of believing she was just the same as she had been—it was easier to delude himself from across the throne room.

She strode straight down the hall, past the Crownsguards who endeavored to take a stand in front of her.

"Your Highness—!"

Regis opened his mouth to order them down—what difference did it make, now?—but she was past them before he could form a single word.

Even knowing she could warp, as evidenced by the numerous accounts thus far, he was still stupefied. She took one step at the door and the next fifteen feet away. And so went every step thereafter. She crossed the throne room in three strides.

And, as she stopped at the bottom of the stairs, he looked at her for the first time. A not insignificant part of him wondered if he was looking at the same daughter whom he had bidden farewell to less than forty-eight hours before.

She was older.

For all that Reina had always been a peculiarly mature child and had been carrying a full half of the kingdom for the past three years, he had never struggled to see his little girl underneath.

Now he did.

"Father." She climbed the stairs. "Order the gates opened for Noctis. The imperials will arrive in a few hours—better that he be inside the city by then."

Regis' brow furrowed. "Better that he be  _outside_ the city by then, and you along with him. Have you lost your good sense? Turn around and leave this instant."

"No." She stopped when she was on a level with him. Still only five feet tall and yet she had that way of making herself seem taller. "Not this time, Father."

Two days ago, the words he had uttered would have made her recoil—demurred and rebuffed. Now she seemed not to care at all. In the next two days he anticipated facing his own death and the loss of his kingdom to the empire; Reina's lack of reaction terrified him more than all those things together.

Regis winced—a brief crack in the calm as he let her see his regret and fear.

"Reina, my dear… what have you Dreamed?" He opened his arms to her and a second passed before she came to him, letting him wrap her up and assure himself that she was real and whole. And, after a moment's hesitation—another unnerving oddity—she returned the gesture, hugging him more fiercely than he had ever known her to.

"We don't have time for that, Father. But  _I can fix this._ " In that whispered moment he caught a glimpse of his daughter. He pulled back to look at her, cupping her face in his hands, and she looked back at him.

Still whole. Thank the Gods. Whatever else had passed, she was still inside behind those newly hardened features.

"I need you to trust me without question. Unconditionally," she said.

In all the months preceding, from the day the imperial chancellor had waltzed into the throne room until now, Regis had been searching for a way out. Through every council meeting, through every late-night discussion with Clarus and even Reina herself, he had strained to find some hole in the net that was closing around them. And he had found one. Large enough to push only his children through and pray that it would be enough to send them away. That Insomnia would fall and Regis would die had been all but certainty. He did not need to see the future to guess what they were planning.

Never had it occurred to him that they could avoid the trap Niflheim had laid if they knew precisely where to look for it. Yesterday he would have said it was impossible; even if Reina had Dreamed what was to come, it would only serve to torment her. Now, looking into her eyes and seeing that fire of determination, he believed she could change it.

Still, one thing troubled him. He searched her face for the answer and found nothing.

"If you swear to me now that you will not try to trade your life for mine."

"I promise."

She answered too quickly—as a practiced lie, though he had never known her to lie to him, save innocently. It was a day for firsts.

"Why?" He asked. "Grant me this one question and every one hereafter I will hold."

She considered him for a moment, still holding onto his hands as he held onto her face.

Then the ferocity returned, like blazing fire: "I have lived through your death, Father. I never want to again, but if you love me even half as much as I love you then I would  _never_ force my death upon you. If you ask it of me—if it comes to that—I will bear Lucis and your loss on my own, rather than have you suffer."

Her words gave him pause: if she would rather let him die than experience half of what she had, how could he ask that of her? What pain must she have endured at his loss?

He had struggled with much the same concern, in the weeks before. She was young, still. And the loss of a parent was inevitable. She would learn; she would grow past it. If it came to that.

Regis stooped to kiss her forehead. "My dear, I love you  _twice_ as much as you love me."

"This is no time for joking, Father," she said, voice dry.

He smiled. "I trust you. Unconditionally. Do what you must do—and know that I stand beside you."

"Thank you." She threw her arms around his neck, hugging him fiercely once more and planting a kiss on his cheek. Then she withdrew and became the queen once more.

"Send word to the gate," she called down the hall, lifting her voice. "Let Prince Noctis and his retinue into the city."


	4. Noctis, Receiving Instructions

They sat at the west gate while Reina warped through the Wall and vanished into the city. Noct was still trying to process everything she'd said. First off, Reina had Dreamed ten years of time. That was crazy all by itself. Longest she'd ever Dreamed before was a few hours of future-time. Guess they knew, now, what happened if Dad wasn't around to wake her up. Trouble was, those Dream memories weren't going away any time soon. That meant Reina was thirty. His twin was ten years older than him. How the fuck did that work out?

Second, there was the little matter of Insomnia falling, everyone dying, and the world going to shit if Reina's plans didn't pan out. No big deal. No pressure. Just Dad dying… and Luna dying… and Ignis going blind… and Reina dying. And the sun disappearing? What the hell was that about? Ugh. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. Not bad enough to ask, anyway. He'd thought it was tough having everyone expect him to be the King of Light. Now they just had to save the world.

Sure. Yeah. Right. No problem-o. Reina probably had this all under control, right? She looked like she had shit under control.

Fuck.

It took seventeen minutes from the time Rei left the Regalia to when the city gates opened. Ignis owed him two hundred gil. He was never going to pay, but at least Noctis could hold it over him for the rest of their lives. From the sound of things, that wouldn't be very long.

Ignis drove them into the city and straight to the Citadel. Half a dozen Crownsguards were waiting for them outside.

"Man, I thought we just got out of here." Noct dragged his feet up the stairs. "What happened to the wedding?"

Gladio shrugged.

"Maybe ask Reina?" Prompto suggested.

Yeah. She probably had time to answer questions about Noct's wedding. Just that little matter of saving the world occupying her mind, at the moment.

"I expect Her Highness is quite busy," Ignis said.

Ignis was right, as usual. They were escorted into the throne room and announced—with all the pomp and ceremony that entailed—to Reina and Dad, who were both standing by the throne.

"...by the time the imperials arrive," Reina was saying. She turned on him without missing a beat. "Noct, that means I need you to camp out in your room for a few hours—take them with you, if you like."

"Huh?" No time for explanations, just 'go to your room, Noctis,' as soon as they arrived. He'd thought they had grown out of that years ago. About the time when he moved out of the Citadel. Guess not.

"Your Highness, if I might be of use elsewhere, I should be happy to assist," said Ignis.

Yeah. He sure would be. And all that time they thought Specs wasn't even interested—obviously, Rei always had been, because why else would she complain so loudly that she wasn't, but—

"Thank you, Ignis," she said. "But for the moment, I need you with Noctis."

"Of course, Your Highness." Ignis bowed. Suck-up.

Reina looked at Noctis. "Luna arrives with the others—we'll make sure she finds her way upstairs, once things quiet down."

Luna? But—

"What—? I thought—Altissia?" The information refused to register properly.

"Later, Noctis—" Reina said.

Dad was looking at her curiously, too, but he kept his mouth shut. She hadn't been joking about talking him around. She did throw him a bone, though.

"The Glaive you sent to retrieve Luna is dead, Father." And then she changed directions in a heartbeat: "Clarus—have word sent to the Crownsguards in the city. A civilian group is working with the imperials to sow chaos during the ceremony. They meet tonight in the old arcade on Sol Street; they will need to be rounded up and detained."

"The riots…?" Clarus asked.

"No. Those are just frightened refugees. The imperial sympathizers are quieter."

"It will be done, Your Highness." Clarus bowed; he passed Noctis on his way down the steps, caught Gladio's eye, and gave him a minuscule nod.

"Noctis—upstairs, please," Reina said.

He scowled. "So I just get locked up in a room while you play hero? It's my home, too, you know."

She smiled, unamused. "Rest assured there is plenty I need your help for. But right now I need you out of sight."

He knew better than to think he was going to get anything else out of her. Not when she looked like that. He threw up his hands and groaned—just so she would know he was annoyed with her—and went back down the stairs. Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto tripped over themselves to bow to Rei and Dad before following.

"Back to the room I just moved out of. Great."

"There are worse things," Ignis said.

"Yeah," Gladio said, "Like sucking up to the princess and getting stuck on babysitting duty anyway."

Ignis straightened his glasses. "Quite."

Prompto snorted.

Well. At least they could make fun of Specs to pass the time.


	5. Ignis, Following Orders

Not but five minutes beyond the throne room, Noctis derailed them by turning down the wrong hallway.

"Noct—" Ignis stopped at the intersection. "Her Highness made it quite clear—"

"Yeah, yeah." Noctis waved a hand, dismissive, and turned to walk backward as he spoke. "Keep out of sight. Got it. I don't want to  _be seen_ , I just wanna  _see_."

Gladio shrugged. Prompto was already following Noct. Ignis sighed and hastened to catch up. Reina's instructions had not been as flexible as Noct believed, but what was he to do? Manhandle the prince back to his room? Not likely. Noct could be every bit a prince when it suited him, insofar as he disregarded instructions and took for granted that he would be followed.

The upper floors of one tower of the Citadel were designated living space for the royal family. Whereas the rest of the capitol was both the seat of the king and the center of the government in Lucis, this space was more private residence than public building. Only a handful of people in all of Insomnia could even unlock the elevator that ascended to these levels. Ignis was one, of course, along with Gladio. He had been roaming these halls for nearly as long as he could remember. In those days, it had been easier to keep Noct out of trouble; all one needed to do was pick him up and deliver him back to his room. He was a bit big for that, these days.

Noctis led them through the network of hallways and into the small library. By then, Ignis could guess what he had planned. The balcony off the library had once been Noctis and Reina's private sanctuary . At the time, they had chosen it because no one ever searched for them to be in the library, and the windows were tall and narrow with blinds most often closed, which meant any passersby were unlikely to spot them. Today, however, Ignis suspected that the location was chosen less for solitude and more for the views it commanded; the library balcony looked directly down on the front of the Citadel.

Noctis pulled open the door and stepped out into the stiff breeze; he crossed to the rail and looked down.

Prompto came to stand beside him. "Whoa. Hella high up."

"I daresay you will see very little from up here." Ignis came last, leaning in the open doorway with his arms crossed.

"What're you complaining about? Doesn't that just mean no one's gonna see us?" Noct shot him a haughty look. "Beside, I've got—"

He held out one hand and—after a thick pause and a look of concentration—his magic flashed and a pair of binoculars appeared in his hand.

" _Why_  on Eos do you have—?" Ignis stopped himself. "—On second thought, I would rather never know."

"Lighten up, Specs.  _I'm_ not going to tell Reina you disobeyed her." Noctis propped his elbows on the railing and directed his binoculars toward the drive below.

"I did  _not_ —!"

He absolutely had.

Gods, she was going to kill him when she found out and—make no mistake—she  _would_ find out. Or, worse yet, she was going to change her mind about him after realizing that he couldn't even keep Noctis from wandering off while he was supposed to be on guard. Yes, perhaps she had foreseen some relationship for them in her Dream, but the future was far from set in stone. That was, after all, why they had returned to Insomnia. She could just as easily make a different choice once she learned how incompetent Ignis truly was.

Then again she already knew how bad Ignis was at telling Noctis 'no.' Who had followed Noct on all his midnight excursions for years in their childhood, because he could not convince the prince to stay abed?

That hardly excused Ignis' behavior today, however.

"Whole procession going on out there." Gladio had gone to lean against the railing as well.

"Where are the imperials?" Prompto asked.

"Not here, yet," Noct said.

Ignis sighed. He could continue chiding them pointlessly or he could accept that they would not leave until Noctis was satisfied—no matter what argument Ignis posed. He stepped up to the railing on Prompto's other side.

Directly below, the wide Citadel stair swept down from the entrance hall and into the drive. People packed every space save a single lane cleared by the guards. Some were enthusiastic onlookers. Others carried painted signs, which doubtless did not say 'Welcome to Insomnia.'

"Glad we're not doing crowd control in that," said Gladio.

"Indeed." Ignis pushed his glasses up. "Positively packed with people."

"So…" Prompto said, "What's the plan?"

"Gonna hang out until they get here," Noct said. "I want to see Luna."

"And if they see  _us_?" Ignis asked.

"Come on, Specs. Who's going to look up here? Besides, Rei already said we'd be out later; probably doesn't even matter," Noct said.

Ignis opened his mouth to say that he highly doubted Reina would have given the instruction if it didn't matter, but stopped himself. It was useless to argue with Noct when he was like this.


	6. Regis, Asking No Questions

He was accustomed to a certain level of control and understanding where his kingdom was concerned. It was infuriating, being left in the dark.

What, precisely, had happened to the Glaive he sent for Lunafreya? Was Noctis' absence for his own protection or something else entirely? And if Noct was to make himself scarce, was that also meant to extend to her?

That last one, at least, she eventually answered.

"I daresay you need no input on greeting the diplomatic attache, Father, so I will leave you to that. I only ask that you give no indication that Noctis and I are in the city—not even to Lady Lunafreya."

But why _?_

"Very well," he said.

It meant hours of posturing and pretending as if he had no idea what snakes were in their midst. After, the entire imperial company would be settled into guest rooms within the Citadel, as per Reina's instructions, rather than at Caelum Via resort. As with a myriad other orders she had issued that morning, Regis could not fathom the purpose of keeping the imperials so close by. He did know, however, that there would be no peace in Insomnia until they were gone, one way or the other. It was not an afternoon he relished the thought of, but in light of recent developments it looked less dismal.

In spite of himself, he was beginning to feel hopeful. It was difficult not to, watching the efficiency with which Reina handled one concern after another. Even so, he had a nagging suspicion that the imperials were planning something insidious and thus far Reina had not provided any countermeasures that suggested she knew of it—whatever it was.

Still, if ever there was a moment to trust her blindly, this was it. Either she turned their fortune or Lucis fell. He was already prepared for the latter. He would simply have to invent some way to send her and her brother out of the city, if it should come to that.

"Thank you, Father. I will reconnect with you this evening, before the reception dinner." Reina moved for the steps.

"Reina—" Regis took a step toward her, leaning heavily on his cane.

She stopped.

"May I request that, regardless of what your own plans are, you take with you a trustworthy guard? Every monarch—no matter how skilled—benefits from a companion, yet you have no retinue of your own." Not for the first time, Regis cursed himself for his lack of foresight in her childhood. How had he allowed Ignis and Gladiolus to become attached only to Noctis? Capable though she may have been, Regis feared for her safety—even within the Citadel. Their home was soon to become a den of vipers. Would that she had some  _friends_.

"I do…" Reina said slowly. She paused, as if trying to recall some detail—or, perhaps, trying to sort out Dream from reality. "But Ignis is with Noct and Iris is only fifteen, still."

Iris Amicitia? Clarus' daughter? And what did she mean, fifteen  _still_?

If they survived the next two days, he would have this whole story from her.

Regis sighed. "I would prefer someone worthy—but if you must take a Glaive…"

"Cor," Reina said.

Regis shut his mouth. For nearly as long as she could talk and walk, Reina and Cor had been butting heads. Neither was ever actively antagonistic toward the other, but nor were they friendly. It was a shame, given how damn similar they were. And yet…

"I'll take Cor, if you'll spare him from city watch."

"Of course." Regis' brain caught up with him, again. If she would have Cor, he could breathe easier; of everyone in the Crown City, Regis couldn't have chosen a better guard for her, himself. "He will be pleased."

Reina shot him a twisted smile. "To be back in the Citadel, perhaps."

So she was still fully aware that they did not get along. Interesting.

"Have him meet me at my rooms." She made a motion as if to turn down the steps again, then stopped. Instead she crossed to Regis and gave him a fierce hug and a kiss. "I'll see you soon, Father."

She had watched him die last night and he had spent the better part of the morning trying to push her away. Maybe she had returned different—Gods knew what else she had Dreamed in addition to the fall of Insomnia—but he could still see his little girl underneath, if he looked closely. He hugged her as tightly as he could and sent thanks that he should be blessed with such a daughter.

"Quite soon," Regis said.


	7. Cor, Meeting the Queen

Thirty years of experience does something for a man's instincts. Cor's were telling him that something was rotten in the Citadel. Why reassign the Crownsguard to protect civilians if Regis didn't expect them to be in danger? Why ensure evacuation plans were set and understood if he didn't expect to use them? Why pull the Kingsglaive into the Citadel if he didn't expect trouble? And why all the subterfuge and confidentiality? They had been friends for longer than Regis had been king.

Cor had done all he could to convince Clarus to divulge their plans or Regis to change his mind. Now he needed to trust that the decisions made had been the correct ones. It wasn't his place to complain about orders—much as he hated them. He had work to do.

He had all but given up any hope that Regis would relent when his radio crackled to life.

" _Marshal, do you copy?"_

The voice was almost lost in the clamor around him. The imperials were due at the outer gate within the hour and the crowds seemed to have doubled since the morning. So much for the standard business day. Didn't these people have work to do?

Cor tapped the button on his radio. "I copy."

" _New orders from the throne. You're to report to the upper floors of the Citadel tower immediately."_

The perpetual furrow in Cor's brow deepened. "The royal quarters?"

" _Affirmative."_

What in the…?

Not his place to question.

"Copy that. ETA thirty minutes."

Of course Regis called him back when he was knee-deep in protests downtown. He tried not to think about why. He requisitioned a car after ensuring that his position would be filled and made his way—as fast as congested streets allowed—toward the Citadel. Blockades on the main roads meant he had to pull rank at more than one stop, but no one made him wait longer than thirty seconds while they dragged barriers aside.

The crowds at the Citadel were even worse, but he made it before the Nifs reached the west gate. He sure as hell wasn't going to join an imperial procession to enter the capitol. That mess was the Glaives' problem, now.

He dropped his car keys with the Crownsguard officer in charge of that quadrant and took the Citadel steps three at a time. He might have gone in through the back—fewer people—but it was a longer walk to the royal quarters from the servants' entrance. So he took the main entrance and the lobby elevator, which took him as high as the executive offices. Whoever had designed this place had traded convenience for privacy; he was forced to change elevators and make good use of his rank and key card to gain access to the top levels.

The lift doors opened to a scarcely-used lounge in the royal quarters. All of the Citadel was black marble, sleek columns, and gold accents, but these floors were arranged less like a government building and more like a home. Floor length curtains in black velvet blocked out the city and sunlight, side tables dotting the halls held creeping ivy in gold pots, and short hallways connected open living spaces.

It was also—in contrast to the lower floors— _quiet_. Only a few Crownsguards even had the clearance to be stationed here and fewer still had the ability to activate that lift. Now, all of those Crownsguards were in the city and so what would have been a sparsely-populated mansion with inconspicuous guards was now completely deserted and thrown into premature darkness.

Which made Cor being summoned here even more strange than it would otherwise have been. Regis must have been in the throne room—unless something had gone very wrong very quickly, in which case Cor would have expected to see a lot more people on this floor. He didn't. So what was he doing here? Aside from Regis, Clarus, Cor, and a single attendant, the only other people who could gain access to this space were on their way to Altissia.

He thought.

"Cor. Punctual as usual." Someone else was up here with him—an ebony-haired woman who rounded the corner from the direction of the bedrooms.

For an instant, he was twenty-five again and the queen was still alive. She smiled at him as an old friend. Who else could she have been, save Aulea?

Then the little bits and pieces added up. She was a good half foot shorter than Aulea. Her eyes were the same blue, but with less good-natured mischief and more steel. Her posture held the grace and poise he had once expected from Aulea, but it also held the command he was accustomed to seeing on Regis.

Reina.

Cor's brain started rolling again.

That was  _Reina_. Of course it was. Why hadn't he recognized her? She looked the same as ever.

...didn't she?

"Your Highness." Cor bowed stiffly. "I thought you had gone to Altissia."

Reina's hair hung loose around her shoulders—damp, as if from a shower. And she hadn't been camping in that outfit.

Niflheim was taking over Lucis and she had stopped to have a shower and change her clothes. Didn't she have more important concerns than her appearance?

"I had. We never made it," she said, succinct. "You're here because Father requested that I have a guard for the duration of this… event. I requested you. I don't have time to explain this choice or any other of the curious decisions you will watch me make in the next two days. Suffice it to say that last night I Dreamed and I am here to ensure what I witnessed never comes to pass."

Never before had Cor heard her speak so nonchalantly about the strange dreams she sometimes had. In fact, he wasn't sure that he had ever heard her speak of them. Most of what he knew was second- or third-hand, from Regis, Clarus, or the occasional Citadel rumor.

"But I need something from you, Cor. I know full well that your loyalty—once earned—is difficult to break and you will follow me, without question, to the ends of Eos. I need that, today." She hadn't moved from the edge of the room—exactly where she had rounded the corner. She stood with her hand on her hip, studying him with an unsettling gaze. He had watched her talk down subjects who came before the throne and members of the ruling council alike, but never before had he seen such a look on her face. That look had been like a mask—a blank front that hid everything underneath. This was no mask; it was her, open and earnest and intense. She hadn't issued a single order, she hadn't sharpened her voice and put a threat behind polite words; all she had done was lay down reality in front of him. He had no choice but to do as she wished.

But respect was something earned.

The thought must have showed on his face.

"I realize I have given you no reason to have such faith in me. I can spare fifteen minutes to do so and I hope it will suffice. But we will need an empty practice room. Come. The closest one is a few floors down from here."

She moved for the lift but caught his gaze and hesitated, then stopped altogether. He couldn't begin to sort out the meaning behind her expression; he knew what regret and pain looked like well enough, but what they were doing on her face in connection with him, he couldn't guess.

Then they were gone.

She hit the button to open the elevator doors and stepped in without another word, leaving Cor standing outside.

What the hell was going on?

He shook his head and followed her. If she was going to explain herself she would do it with or without his questions.

She did.

Sort of.

As the doors closed, she leaned against the side of the lift and looked up at him. "The relevant information—for the purpose of the here and now—is that Niflheim is not here for peace. Tomorrow night they steal the crystal, kill my father, and take over Insomnia—after destroying half the city. I mean to make sure that never happens."

She said so much with so few words, as if none of it mattered to her. It must have. She loved Regis more than anyone else on Eos. So she cared, but she had it under control. Good.

Her explanation answered too few questions, but it did explain Regis' behavior. No surprise the empire wasn't here for peace. Regis had put him in the city on purpose—protect the people because he had already counted his own life as forfeit. But if Regis died…

Shit.

The lift stopped three floors down and Reina strode out and down the hall. Something about the way she walked caught Cor's eye: precise and efficient. She used to move like she knew people were watching; now she moved like she couldn't care less. She pulled the training room door open, leaving Cor to follow her or not.

So she Dreamed Regis' death and woke up with new purpose? It still didn't fit. She had been trying to protect him since she was old enough to think he needed it, but she had always been ineffectual. Why the change?

He followed and stopped in the middle of the room, arms folded. "Do you intend to fight me?"

Reina picked a practice blade off the wall rack and tossed it to him. He swiped it out of the air and tested the weight in his hand automatically. Too light. He would have to adjust.

"I need you to know you can trust me at your back so that I can trust you at mine. Let's dispel, right now, any misconceptions you may have about needing to protect me."

Right. That was not something she was going to be able to wipe away in fifteen minutes. She was the princess; she was Regis' daughter; and—Gods damn it—no matter how hard he stared at her, sometimes he just saw that little girl, more eyes than face, wrapped in a fluffy black blanket the night her mother had died.

She picked a quarterstaff off the rack and joined him in the center. Her stance was for a pole-arm—she favored the naginata—and she betrayed no hesitation as she took her place in front of him.

She struck without warning and swept her staff in an arc at his neck-level. Cor deflected but she slid the staff forward even as he caught it on his wooden blade. If it had been a naginata, it would have sliced his collarbone going across.

She moved like no twenty-year-old had any business moving. Yes, she and Noctis had ten years of combat training and word was she had accelerated that four years ago—but not even that accounted for her skill.

Her tells—when he managed to spot them—were minuscule. A twitch of her deltoid, a stiffening of her abdomen, or nothing more than the flick of her eyes. She drove him back, blow by blow, exploiting every weakness he had never known he had. Her eyes narrowed in focus, but behind that was solid confidence. Had he seen it five minutes ago, he would have called it overconfidence. Now he was certain it wasn't. She was nearly as familiar with her staff as he was with his blade.

He took the defensive, wanting to feel the solidity of her offense and find her weaknesses. He studied her form—as well as he was able while still blocking and diverting—and made note of every step and turn. Her stance was admirably tight.

This was  _not_ the style of someone with ten years of training.

This was the style of someone with twenty years of in-field combat experience.

"Where the hell did you learn to fight like this?" Cor deflected her staff and took another step back. His shoulder ached from where she had landed a solid blow and his collarbone was going to be bruised in the morning.

She paused in her assault. "You taught me."

He wanted to deny it. They had never trained together. He had seen her practice with Gladio or Noctis once or twice, but that was the extent of it. No way she had learned this from Gladio.

But he could see himself in her style. Her stance—elbows in tight, weight forward—was exactly what he favored. And didn't his opponents always complain about his lack of tells?

Hell.

It was one thing to know she was supposed to Dream the future. It was another to experience the results firsthand. How long must she have trained with him to gain this skill? Years, at least. It was unnerving to realize she knew him years better than he knew her.

Reina motioned to him. "We can spare a few minutes more. You'll want to test my defense."

Cor didn't wait for any more prompting before he launched into his own attack.

In that brief moment as his blade came down over her head, he saw surprise on her face—her eyes widening. Then she was gone—or, at least, not where she had been. He swung and hit nothing but a blue shadow of her. She gave a mirthless laugh as he twisted, shifting his weight and striking from a different angle. He didn't think it was directed at him.

"So. I never  _could_ Dream while I was awake, after all."

Cor wasn't sure what that meant. He was less sure that he was meant to, so he decided not to ask. He focused on hitting her—and he just hit air as she phased out of the way.

Again. And again.

He pushed himself as hard as he was able. If there was a limit to this, if he could hit her, then someone else could and he wouldn't be able to trust in her defenses. But he couldn't hit her. He tried for three minutes straight before admitting it.

And she stood there, having only picked up her feet a handful of times. He hadn't even begun to push the boundary of what she was capable of.

Cor lowered his blade, letting his breath slow once more. "I have never seen anyone phase like that."

"I know. You were so angry at me when I told Libertus to hit me with his axe until I got out of the way or died trying."

Was this what people with amnesia felt, hearing others talk about what they had done with no memory of the event? But it sounded like something he would be angry about. Why couldn't she have learned to phase the traditional way?

"My future self has more sense than yours," he said.

"You do," Reina said. "Now let's go. There are traitors in Insomnia. It's time to burn them out."

He wanted to object that they had come to the training room to prove something. Then he realized she had. In ten minutes she had convinced him—more than he had ever thought possible—that she could take care of herself.

And he could respect that.

He could follow that.


	8. Ignis, Running Interference

Ignis had returned to the doorway when he grew tired of watching the riots in the Citadel drive. And, when he grew tired of listening to Noct, Prompto, and Gladio needle at each other, he withdrew to the library. Their voices faded into an indistinct murmur, occasionally broken by laughter, and Ignis had the comfort of knowing he would hear if he was called for but had no obligation to partake in their childish bickering. Or hear any more suppositions about himself and Princess Reina.

The library was a small room: a private library for growing children and a king who enjoyed books but had no time. The walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. A leather-upholstered sofa, two matching wingback armchairs, and an ebony coffee table formed a comfortable sitting arrangement in the back corner; a chess table—with accompanying chess set and chairs sat in the center of the room.

Ignis walked to the hall door and back a dozen times before the elevator down the hall chimed.

The only people who had access to this floor were a scant few Crownsguards, His Majesty's personal attendant—Ignis' uncle—and the royal family themselves. The king was doubtless still in the throne room along with Ignis' uncle, but Reina or any of the guards might well have come to check on Noct's whereabouts.

He pulled the hall door mostly closed and retreated toward the balcony.

"I don't mean to cause alarm, but someone else has just arrived on this level."

Noct straightened, turning around to look at him. "Who?"

"I did not see," Ignis admitted. "But I might head them off and either distract them long enough for you to get where you are  _meant_ to be, or convince them that you already are."

"Do that last one." Noct turned back around.

Ignis sighed. Gods forbid Noctis go to his room for even a few minutes. Nothing had really changed in twelve years, had it?

He slipped out of the library and circled toward Noct's room the long way around so that he could appear to have come from there. He passed the door without encountering anyone else.

By a scant second.

Reina rounded the corner in front of him. "Ignis." She smiled, preoccupied, but not unfriendly. "Is Noct behaving himself?"

He could neither lie to her nor tell her that Noct had disregarded her instructions entirely. Almost entirely. He settled for a vague half-truth.

"Is he ever?"

"Very rarely." Reina was still moving closer. Ignis stopped in front of Noct's door, trying to appear at ease while simultaneously praying that she wouldn't ask to see him.

Either he succeeded in appearing casual or she expected him to look tense—did he always look tense around her? Gods. What did she even think of him?

"Thank you for watching over him." She strode past him, reaching out as if to touch his hand, then stopped herself.

Ignis' heart caught in his throat. It still seemed impossible that she had Dreamed a relationship between them. A hundred thousand questions swam through his mind, but each one stuck in his throat. She had a great many things on her plate. He would not put himself first.

"Of course, Your Highness." The catch in his voice was hardly noticeable. Barely even present at all.

She cast Ignis an indecipherable look over her shoulder before she disappeared into her room, leaving him wishing he had thought of something suave to say. Or anything at all, really, so long as it did not include stumbling over casual non-conversation.

He sighed.

And he returned to Noct and the others.


	9. Noctis, Observing Imperials

The balcony door opened. Ignis was back. Noct glanced over his shoulder and caught Ignis straightening his shirt and smoothing his hands over his hair.

"So…. how's Rei doing?" Noct turned back around to look through his binoculars.

"Fine, to all appearances. I have—" It took him a sentence and a half to notice. "How did you know it was Reina?"

"Didn't think you'd fix your hair for Cor or my dad."

He turned to look at Ignis just so he could see the indignant look on his face. It was better than anticipated. Was he blushing? Man, if they survived two days, he was never letting Ignis live this down.

"Quite," Ignis said. That was what he always said when he couldn't think of anything else but wanted to pretend like he was still in charge.

Prompto laughed. Gladio grinned and nudged Noct so hard he was pushed into Prompto on his other side.

They stood around for a while longer after making fun of Specs stopped being so funny. Just when Noct was beginning to think nothing interesting was going to happen, it did. That was how things went.

A black car pulled up through the narrowed street and stopped in front of the Citadel steps. It was too plain and came with too little pomp and ceremony, too quickly to be any of the imperials.

Cor stepped out.

"Huh. Cor's here," Noct said.

"The Marshal?" Ignis asked.

"Thought he was on city duty for this," Gladio said. "My dad said he was pissed about it."

"Gods spare us from ever witnessing  _that_ ," said Ignis.

"Eh," Noct said. It would probably have been fine—provided he was allowed to stand no less than ten feet away at all times.

Cor disappeared through the main doors. A few minutes later, the elevator down the hall chimed again. Ignis disappeared and returned to report that Reina and Cor had left together.

And just in time.

Down below, fanfare played. Noctis leveled his binoculars down the street. A line of foreign cars formed a procession all the way at the end.

"Finally. Some action."

And, if he had any luck at all, Luna would be with them.


	10. Cor, Discovering Traitors

Reina ordered Captain Drautos summoned without being told why or by whom. Not that Cor could have said why even if he had wanted to. He did as he was told without question. By the time they reached the lower levels, though, he had his suspicions.

The Citadel basements had once been something like a dungeon. In the centuries since the building had been conceptualized, the space grew increasingly disused and it had eventually been divided into various other things—a garage, storage space, and so on. But a portion of the original setup had been preserved—more or less. And while they didn't lock people up down here anymore, it was the one place in the Citadel guaranteed to be unobserved.

She said there were traitors in Insomnia.

And then she summoned Titus Drautos to the basement.

The room she chose had once been—as evidenced by the two-way mirror and the single table with two metal chairs—an interrogation room. Most of that was now done in Crownsguard headquarters as necessary, but the room's existence suggested that law enforcement had once been run from the capitol. Or other less savory things, but he preferred the former explanation.

Reina sat in one chair, facing the door, and folded her hands on top of the table.

"Behind the door." She nodded to Cor. "So he doesn't see you from the outside."

That feeling of foreboding was becoming less of a smolder and more of a blaze. Cor took position behind the door, facing Reina with his back to the wall.

"You said there were traitors in Insomnia," Cor said.

"I did." She smiled, and it wasn't at all pleasant.

There went the last of his hopes that she would recruit Drautos to her cause of hunting the traitors. He could hardly process the alternative—Drautos; Captain Drautos, a traitor to the crown. They had stood together for twenty years. The empire had destroyed his home. How could he possibly work for Niflheim? No one could level an accusation against him that would sound reasonable.

Except.

Except Reina couldn't stand to be in the same room as him for more than a minute.

Reina, the little girl who felt ill before disaster struck time and time again. Reina, the child who had nightmares of Tenebrae burning every night for the week before it happened.

Reina had always hated him.

How had they all let themselves believe it was just some childish fear?

"I'm not certain what to expect from him. He may try to escape, he may try to kill me, or he may try to convince you that he is not what I say." She looked at Cor, appraising, and stared straight through his skin. She nodded, as if he had answered her. "He would be a fool to try, but only a fool would plan to stab my father in the back and walk away."

"What would you have me do?" Cor asked.

"Bar the door behind him. For the moment that is all; I will trust your judgement on whether or not to step in if matters get messy."

"Of course, Your Highness."

"And Cor?" She looked at him and something hardened behind her eyes. "If you have ever thought of me as a child, then I apologize for what you will witness. There is a reason I chose to do this while my father was otherwise occupied—I would prefer the specifics never reach his ears."

Regis: king, protector, the most powerful man in Lucis, and—above all else—a father. What did she have in mind that would be so disturbing for him?

"Drautos is working with the empire?" Cor asked.

"He is General Glauca."

Cor's eyebrows came together in the middle. Drautos? Glauca? "And he will stab Regis in the back?"

"In the most literal sense. Tomorrow night around eleven, after the treaty signing goes awry, his sword cuts through father's spine and sternum."

Cor's jaw tightened. "He won't pass me. And you have my vow that I will not breathe a word of what occurs behind this door."

"I thought as much."

They waited in silence. It was a few more minutes before Cor heard the clang of the outer door opening and falling shut again, then footsteps. They stopped outside the door.

"Your Highness," Drautos' voice said he was surprised. And wary. "I had no idea you were still in the city."

"You weren't meant to. Have a seat, Captain." She kicked the other chair out from under the table. "We have important business to discuss—my father is in danger."

A pause, long enough that Cor began to wonder if he wouldn't turn and flee. But he stepped into the room and took the seat without looking behind him.

"What have you discovered?" He asked.

Reina glanced at Cor. Cor slammed the door shut and stepped in front of it, meeting Drautos' gaze when he spun at the sound.

Murderer. Traitor. Treasoner.

Betrayer.

Reina rose from her seat. Drautos made a motion to stand, but she stopped him.

"Don't. I want you looking up at me when I tear your eyes out. Traitor."

A few days ago it would have been ridiculous to hear Reina say those words. Today, Cor believed she would follow through on them. Every second he spent in her presence made it harder to see the little girl behind the ice.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Your Highness," said Drautos.

Reina's magic flared. She moved so rapidly that Cor wasn't certain what had happened afterward. The wet sound of a blunt collision echoed around the room, Drautos' head snapped back, and blood spattered the wall beside Cor. Reina held her naginata, blunt side down and marked with red.

She stepped forward and grabbed the front of his shirt. "I have spent the last ten years fantasizing about what I would do if I had the impossible opportunity to see you alive. Do you think I brought you down here to get information from you? I know everything. You're here because I want you to suffer."

The information settled uneasily into Cor's mind, though it took another moment for him to sort out why. For now it sat in the pit of his stomach: a cold lump that refused to dissolve.

Drautos grabbed her arm with both hands. "You know nothing, you little bitch."

Fire crawled down Reina's skin and caught in Drautos' clothes. They burst, as if doused in gasoline. He released her arm and swatted at the flames. She dragged him to his feet and swung her naginata to crack across his shins. When he stumbled she spun and kicked him in the chest.

Drautos slammed against the wall and tumbled to the ground. His clothes were still ablaze—the flames had spread and were eating at his skin, by now, while he twisted about, trying to put them out. He struggled to tear off his cape and pat out the flames. She might have been feeding them magic, keeping them alive in spite of his best efforts. Cor couldn't tell. By the time she lifted her hands again, his clothes were in tatters—great holes eaten straight through to show red and black blistered skin smoldering beneath.

The little room was starting to smell like cooked meat. The uncomfortable sensation in Cor's stomach solidified into something concrete. He must have known from the start that Reina hadn't brought Drautos here to question him; if she had Dreamed this then she already knew anything he could tell them. By extension, he had known what she really wanted with Drautos, as well. He could easily have been arrested quietly; the only reason to summon him to the dungeons was this. Revenge. Torture.

He deserved it.

No, that wasn't what bothered Cor.

What bothered him was the same reason she wanted Regis never to know what had happened in this room. For all he had seen what she was capable of upstairs, he had still thought of her as a child. Knowing that she had lived through ten years of darkness without him were different than witnessing what that darkness did to a person. It was under her skin. She wasn't the same Reina Lucis Caelum she had been two days ago.

That Reina would never have been able to save Insomnia.

Reina held up her hand and ice crept across the ground, freezing Drautos' charred skin and smothering the flames. When the ice sublimated, he lay in the corner, breathing heavily, but seething up at her with a soulless hatred Cor had never imagined from him.

She stepped forward and put the heel of her boot against his windpipe. Drautos choked when she applied pressure. He grabbed her leg. Lightning flashed. His hands leapt away. The yelp he made was muted when she pressed down harder.

"If you know everything… you might as well kill me," he choked out.

Perhaps he meant to call her bluff.

Cor could have saved him the trouble.

Reina stared at him for a moment. From where she stood, with her back to him, Cor couldn't see what her face looked like. But he watched as her shoulders began to shake.

It took another moment before he realized she was laughing.

Of every last breath, of every scream, of every sickening crunch of bone he had ever heard…

This was the most unsettling sound.

She lifted her heel off his neck and slammed it back down. Drautos' head jerked to the side. The way he lifted his hand to his face said she had hit his jaw. The misalignment said it was broken.

"I never said I was going to kill you." She crouched down beside him, leaning forward so her face was right over his. "Aw. Poor. Little. Traitor. So naive."

She grabbed his jaw in one hand and twisted until he cried out.

"This is day one. Only three thousand, six hundred and forty nine to go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My desire to write Rei torturing Drautos may have been a driving motivator behind the writing of this whole story....


	11. Noctis, Spotted

The imperials came pouring in. If Rei had been there, she could have pointed to each one and given a name, but Noct couldn't have said who any of those guys were.

Except that one.

"Ugh. Ravus."

"Where?" Gladio leaned forward on the rail.

Noct passed him the binoculars and pointed. He didn't want to look at Ravus' slimy face any more than he needed to.

"He is their commander, these days," Ignis said. "It stands to reason he would be part of the diplomatic party."

"Huh. Bringing the imperial commander to peace talks," Prompto said.

"Indeed," said Ignis. "But of course, they would have even if their intentions had been pure. Posturing is everything—and they are here to remind us who, exactly, is coming out on top of this arrangement. And why."

Noct scoffed and took the binoculars back from Gladio. "Not anymore they're not."

"Gods willing," Ignis said.

The imperials' cars stopped far enough away that all their diplomats could show off their runway walk while they smiled and waved to the crowds. They looked so fucking self-satisfied. Noct was going to puke.

Gladio's hand fell heavy on his shoulder. "Hey. We'll turn it around."

"We better."

Rei needed to come up with something for him to do real soon. He wasn't going to wait around forever. It had all been a waste so far. He couldn't even see Luna. Maybe Reina was wrong, but—nah. Luna was probably just farther back. Until then, it was just a bunch of nameless Nifs.

Alright, he was pretty sure that old guy in the white was actually the emperor. He didn't look like much. They could probably take him. Hell, most of the imperials didn't look like much. They had an old guy, Ravus, and a weirdo with burgundy hair who was smiling and waving like he was having the time of his life—he even stopped at the bottom of the stairs to turn around and bow to the crowd with a flourish. Cocky bastard.

And then.

He looked up.

It might have been an accident. And if Noct hadn't been watching him through the binoculars, he would have convinced himself of that.

But it wasn't.

He looked at Noctis. His eyes narrowed for a moment—he couldn't see them from way down there, right?—and then he smiled. Not a nice smile. And he bowed, putting one hand to his chest and inclining his head before looking back up at them. At  _Noct_. No way he could see them from the ground. No way he could recognize Noctis.

Noct backed away from the railing. Too late.

"What's up?" Prompto asked.

"Who's that guy with the reddish hair?" Noct asked.

Ignis took the binoculars and looked, but he only shook his head. "No one I recognize. Why?"

"He saw me."

"No way," said Gladio. "He can't tell who you are from way up here."

"Yeah, right. I'm sure he just looked straight at me and bowed on accident."

Ignis stepped away from the railing as well, face drawn. This was the part where he delivered a lecture.

"Perhaps we ought to consider retiring to your rooms—as we were meant to in the first place," said Ignis.

Huh. No lecture.

"Why bother? He already saw. Besides, I still haven't seen Luna."

He wasn't afraid of being seen. Not really.

But he was concerned about why Reina hadn't wanted him seen.


	12. Regis, Holding his Tongue

In they streamed, making an imperial hall of his throne room. The tension of having so many snakes in one place strained them all. Clarus stood at his elbow, as stiff as his own sword, and dedicated himself to appearing neutral and unreadable instead of incensed.

It would have been easier for the others if Reina hadn't spent all morning standing before them and dismantling plans put in place by the imperials and their sympathizers. Regis, at least, had been prepared to face Aldercapt and pretend as if this treaty was not merely an excuse to be let inside the Wall. But the revelation had shocked and disturbed many of his councilors, some of whom had believed they were on the precipice of peace. Even Clarus was all the more on edge after the morning they had shared.

Regis could understand that. Before, he had been resigned to walking the tightrope over the pit of vipers but he had known this could only end one way; no matter how carefully he walked, it would but delay the inevitable.

Now, however, they had a chance to win. Now, they had something to lose.

So he sat through it—or stood through it, as his knee allowed. And he smiled fake smiles until his face hurt and delivered all the proper responses as dictated by political nicety. Most of the imperials were satisfied with that. A minority poked and prodded, if only to see what would happen. A Lucian king on display for their entertainment. How quaint.

The imperial chancellor was one of those.

"Ah, King Regis. What a pleasure to be, once again, within your magnificent city!"

Of course it was. How else would he tear it apart but from inside?

"I hope you will find the accommodations suitable," Regis said. He could follow a script and usher the chancellor along just like everyone else.

"Oh, I have no doubt! But I must admit some disappointment at finding the throne beside yours empty. And here I was hoping to gaze upon your lovely daughter, today."

No doubt he said it merely to irk Regis.

It worked.

Regis' hands clenched on the arms of his throne and his jaw tightened. His lovely daughter, was she? This filth was out of line.

"We are sorry to dissatisfy you," Regis managed, in a tone that said otherwise. "Perhaps another time."

"Word has it that Princess Reina has a unique brand of magic." Izunia smiled. Most unsettling. "I do hope her nighttime visions have only shown peace and prosperity between our nations."

He knew.

Somehow, impossibly, he knew not only that Reina Dreamed of the future—but that she had Dreamed of this future.

And if he knew he would change plans until she had no concept of what would happen anymore.

But the dance went on. Regis could not afford to lose track of the steps.

"How kind of you to note her gifts; perhaps later you will have the opportunity to ask her, yourself."

"I will have to set aside a few hours to… entertain her."

A man like Ardyn Izunia did not choose words by accident. That knowledge made the hairs on the back of Regis' neck stand up. What he wanted to say was that, under no circumstances would the imperial chancellor ever be left alone with his daughter.

What he was permitted to say was:

"But of course."


	13. Cor, Pruning the Kingsglaive

Reina had been right: it was difficult to think of her as a child after watching her turn Drautos into well-charred punching bag with her face empty of anything and her knuckles red.

And, at the same time, there had never been a moment when Cor had wanted to stop her.

He dragged Drautos into an empty room in the deserted dungeon, tossed him in a corner, and locked him in. It would have been a mercy if he choked on his own blood and suffocated. But Reina was right. He didn't deserve even that much.

Cor dropped the key into Reina's hand. "Where next?"

"The Glaive will need a new captain—and some pruning. Make sure they're waiting."

"More traitors?" Cor reached for his radio.

"Most of the Kingsglaive. I want a contingent of Crownsguard, as well."

Shit. How had they noticed nothing? It made his skin crawl just to radio in and have them all summoned back to headquarters immediately for further instructions. How many of those voices he heard in response belonged to traitors?

And was she really going to walk back upstairs with blood dripping down her fingers?

"Your Highness." Cor stopped outside the bathroom. When she turned to look at him, he pushed the door open. "If you don't want hint of this to reach Regis' ears, you should get cleaned up."

She looked at her hands as if she had only just realized they were covered in blood.

"Yes. Thank you."

Cor sent her back when she missed a smudge of blood on her cheek. Once she was presentable they climbed the stairs to the ground floor. Still avoiding the main public space of the Citadel, they made for the Kingsglaive headquarters. Chatter on Cor's radio confirmed that the imperials had arrived—or were arriving—and Reina was still avoiding their eyes.

So they took a roundabout way and arrived to find the Kingsglaive assembled and waiting. Their reaction to Cor walking in ranged from surprised to perplexed in varying shades. Concern rose as more Crownsguards joined them until they were practically one-to-one with the Glaives.

"At attention!" Cor barked. "Line up."

They scrambled to do so. If nothing else, they were disciplined.

Disciplined traitors. It was like sanitized shit.

"Your Highness." Cor stepped aside as Reina entered. Heads turned—then bowed.

She walked down the line of Glaives, looking at each face with steely consideration. When she reached the end she turned sharply and began walking back. This time she stopped along the way.

"This one."

Cor motioned to his Crownsguards and a pair detached to detain the Glaive she indicated.

"What—?" The Glaive, a weasel-faced man with light brown hair and pale eyes, pulled against the Crownsguards, testing their strength.

"Silence in the princess' presence," Cor said. "Take him."

Reina continued to walk. She stopped in front of the next and the next and the next in line, whittling down the Kingsglaive until more than half had been pulled aside by the Crownsguards. The remaining Glaives—scarcely more than a few dozen—moved a little closer together, as if concerned that Reina would hand them over to the Crownsguards as well.

"Where do you want them taken?" Cor asked.

"The same place as the other traitorous filth." She said it coldly—matter-of-factly—without even venom.

"We haven't done anything!" Said the weasel-faced Glaive.

Reina turned cool eyes on him. " _You_ have. You've already betrayed your comrades by killing one of your own. The rest of you I hold under conspiracy to commit treason."

For a moment his face contorted in rage. Then— "You think a few of these fools can hold us? You'll never stop what's coming to Lucis."

He spat on the floor. Then he flashed with blue light and reappeared a few feet away, charging at her with a curved blade in his hand. "For hearth and home!"

"Reina—!"

Cor had only taken a single step—impulse and reflex, in spite of the logic that kicked in much later—before Reina had the Glaive on the ground with her knee in his back.

"Scum," she said. "Did you really think I would let you keep my father's magic so you could stab him in the back?"

What happened next was difficult to explain in any words Cor knew. Something… popped. The room flashed with light. And every traitor-Glaive that had been reaching for their weapons or phasing free of the Crownsguards or calling fire stopped.

The fire died. The trace of blue around them vanished. A Crownsguard ran one of them through with his sword when the Glaive failed to phase out of the way. Their magic was gone.

Reina hauled the weasel-face Glaive to his feet and shoved him toward the line of Crownsguards. "Take them. Lock them up. I'll deal with them later."

Crownsguards filed out of the room, dragging traitors between them.

"I don't know how long I'll be able to keep such a large force of Crownsguards from notice," Cor said. "Clarus has probably already heard."

"It matters little if he knows, now. Father will have felt me cut their bonds to him." She dusted herself off, straightening her dress. "And I can't decide if he will be more shocked that it was possible, or more irked that I tried."

Cor couldn't think of anything to say to that. Instead he said: "Are you alright?"

She looked at him curiously for a moment with her head at an angle. The look on her face was almost a smile. Almost. Then she reached out and grasped his arm briefly. "I'm fine. He was slower than you."

Reina turned around while he was still trying to decide if that was an insult or not.

"Glaives," she said, "Your ranks have been poisoned by an imperial infiltrator. Everyone who still stands in this room is loyal to Lucis; I suggest you remain that way."

She let the silence—and the threat—hang until even Cor was trying not to shift in discomfort.

When she broke it, it was jarring:

"Nyx Ulric."

More than one of them flinched. The Glaive named Nyx stepped forward and dropped to one knee. "Your Highness."

"You've been promoted to Captain. Until this mess is cleaned up, you report directly to me. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Your Highness. I won't let you down."

A pause. Then: "I know."


	14. Regis, Losing an Army

The remainder of the imperial procession passed by without note. No others endeavored to break Regis' calm, for which he was grateful—or as grateful as he could be toward any imperial—and the entire trial was wrapped up within a few hours, save for the last member of the imperial company:

"Her Royal Highness, Princess Lunafreya of Tenebrae."

It was odd to hear that title applied to someone other than Reina. Indeed, even knowing whom he would find, Regis turned toward the door half expecting to see Reina had returned. But of course it wasn't her.

Twelve years had turned Lunafreya from a child into a graceful young woman.

And every bit of regret and pain he had carried along from Tenebrae all those years ago came back to him. He should have done better. He should have been able to take her away from that place. He should have been able to save Sylva. Perhaps if he had, the situation today would have been different. Perhaps that young man they now called Commander wouldn't have given his loyalty to Niflheim. Perhaps Luna would have been spared twelve years under lock and key with imperial jailers.

But no.

He could regret what had happened all he liked but he could never regret what he had done. He had prioritized the safety of his children above all else. It was selfish and unkingly. Even if he used Noctis' destiny to justify the choice, that had not been the thought in his mind while Tenebrae burned. Every day he had shared with Noctis and Reina since then, every smile, every laugh, every birthday, had been worth any price.

"Prince Noctis isn't here… is he?" Luna's eyes swept the chamber when she asked, as if she was expecting to see him.

It was more difficult to lie when he saw the resignation and disappointment on her features. But he did so anyway, because that was what Reina had asked of him.

"I fear not."

Tears welled in her eyes, but did not fall. She would forgive him, later. And if she did not… well. It was still better than the alternative. His word belonged to his daughter.

Regis changed the subject. "I had hoped—"

A hundred lines of power stretched and snapped, lashing back at him like cut rubber bands. He flinched, bowing his head and grasping the arms of his throne. It was less a physical sensation than an internal one—not unlike the shock of an unpleasant revelation, but a hundred all at once. And when that faded, he felt… numb.

He felt for the strands of magic that bound him to each person he shared his power with. Clarus was here, beside him. Cor's line stretched across the Citadel—in the same direction as the lines to his Glaives.

Too few lines.

The tattered remains hung loose, frayed. Severed. But how—?

"Your Majesty?" Luna's voice.

"Regis?" Clarus' hand fell on his shoulder.

Regis lifted a hand to calm the rising concerns in the room. "I am fine."

No one, save him, should have been able to cut the bonds he had formed with his Kingsglaive, but the number of people on Eos who could have even tried totalled to two.

' _I need you to trust me without question.'_

_I_ am  _trying, my dear._

If she had cut those ties, it meant they had needed to be cut. Whatever the reason, he had no doubt that it had been a good one. And why not warn him? Perhaps because she hadn't been given the opportunity to do so.

So. He had a daughter combating the imperial threat, who had just—without notice—deprived more than half of his Glaive of their magic. What did that say about his Glaive? What did that mean for her safety?

"Clarus, please determine the status of my daughter's safety. Cor will know."

"Of course." Clarus bowed and stepped away to make the necessary call.

"My apologies, Luna. I fear I must end our reunion prematurely. Rest assured that I will see you this evening—until then, I hope you will make yourself comfortable here in the Citadel."

"Of course, Your Majesty." Concern lingered on her face, but she bowed and left the way she had come.

Once Luna was gone, Clarus returned with the result of his investigation.

"Cor informs me that Her Highness is in perfect health and that she would like to meet with you somewhere more private as soon as convenient."

Regis rose from his throne. "My office. Immediately."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! If you've been listening to the Fractured audio drama, the 3rd and final episode will premiere this Saturday on YouTube. You can listen to it live with us here: https://youtu.be/TNolZtFv7Rs or listen any time thereafter (I'll post the link on my profile, or you can find it via our YouTube channel). If you haven't been listening to the Fractured audio drama: get out (jk, ily. But seriously, go listen).


	15. Cor, Meeting with the King

Reina was still issuing instructions, consulting her new Captain of the Glaive on how best to utilize their strength against the imperial threat, when Cor's phone rang.

He glanced at the screen. "Whatever you did, His Majesty didn't like it."

"I expected as much. You don't have to deal with him if he's angry with me—I'll take it."

"My skills may be limited, Your Highness, but I am well versed in tolerating Clarus' many criticisms."

Reina was staring at him. The expression on her face said she couldn't decide whether to be confused or amused.

He swiped the screen and answered his phone. "Clarus."

" _His Majesty would like your assurance that Her Highness is safe."_

What sort of bodyguard did they take him for? Not that she had needed his help to neutralize the Glaive threat. With the way she wielded her magic, Cor wouldn't have been surprised to discover she could level Insomnia.

"Of course she is," Cor said.

"Are the imperials gone?" Reina asked.

Cor relayed.

" _Very nearly."_

At Cor's nod, Reina said, "Tell him we can meet as soon as Father is able. Somewhere quiet."

They lingered a few minutes more, Reina giving last-minute instructions and ensuring Nyx was up to date with her wider plans—not that she had told anyone her specific plans. For the moment, everyone was on high alert and close at hand in the eventuality of trouble.

When she was satisfied that Nyx had a firm grasp on the situation, they left to meet with Regis in his study.

"How quickly can you recall the Crownsguard from the city?" She asked as they walked.

"How subtle do you want them to be?" Cor asked.

"I would prefer that no one associated with Niflheim was aware that any change had taken place."

"That will take longer."

"Then begin now."

Cor sent orders to begin withdrawing the Crownsguard, squad by squad. It would take the rest of the day, at least, to get everyone rearranged and reassigned so that no imperials were any the wiser, but it would be done.

They reached the king's study and found both him and Clarus waiting inside.

"Reina—" Regis was on his feet as soon as the door opened for them—though Cor noticed the wince as he straightened his bad leg.

"I'm sorry, Father—I would have warned you, but we are short on time." Reina stopped short just inside.

Regis brushed her apology away and held out his hand. "Are you alright?"

After a moment she stepped forward and took it, letting him pull her into a hug. In twenty years, Cor had never seen her hesitate to hug her father. That Dream had changed her more than anyone wanted to admit but Regis was still trying to treat her like his little girl. After what she had done to Drautos in the basement an hour before, it was difficult to see anything of the child left in her. Better that Regis never learn what had happened to Captain Drautos. Or what she had planned for him.

"I am fine, Father. And Insomnia is one step safer for the jailing of traitors."

The concern on his face shifted to something more grim. "The Kingsglaive?"

"Most of them—though I have no doubt the troubles spawned from Drautos. Would that I had learned to listen to my instincts before now… but at least it is not too late, anymore."

"Drautos?" Regis' eyebrows came together in the middle.

"Yes—you will have to wait for the story. How long before we are due to arrive at the resort for dinner?"

"About three hours, Your Highness," Clarus supplied.

"I promised Noct he could see Luna—" She turned toward the door, but Regis called her back.

"Reina. There is something else," he said. "The imperial chancellor knows you are here—though I know not how—and he knows of your Dreams."

She stared at him for a stunned second, not even breathing. Then she gasped—sudden, as if she had forgotten she needed to breathe at all.

"Ardyn." It wasn't how most people spoke of the imperial chancellor. Familiar, like an old friend. "Well, he was bound to find out, tonight, regardless, but I had hoped for a few more hours head start."

Her eyes flicked around the room, landing on Cor. "Change of plans—have some Crownsguards convene—quietly—at the resort. Clarus, will you see to it that someone escorts Lunafreya up to see Noct? And make sure he knows I expect all of them to attend dinner."

Cor reached for his phone automatically. Clarus bowed and showed himself out.

"And you, my dear?" Regis asked.

"I need to look ahead and see if he has changed his plans, yet." She crossed to the chaise lounge by the empty fireplace.

"Look ahead?" Regis asked. "You mean to… Dream intentionally?"

"Yes. Admittedly, I've only Dreamed within a Dream, before. I don't know if I can truly wake myself back into the present." She sat, tucking her legs up underneath her and wedging herself into the corner of the lounge.

"So you may become trapped again?" Regis asked.

For the first time that Cor had thus far witnessed during this increasingly strange day, she smiled up at Regis. It was a real smile.

"No. Because I have you this time. If I'm not back within thirty minutes, wake me."

Regis' limp was more pronounced than usual as he took his place beside her. "You have my word."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news, everyone! I finished drafting Of Decision, so I can start working on Shattered Dreams part 4: Reckoning and once I have a head start on that I can post multiple Restored chapters per week!


	16. Ignis, in Noct's Room

Try as he might, Ignis couldn't shake the feeling that the imperial spotting Noctis was precisely what Reina had meant to prevent. Noct had brushed it aside, but he knew something was wrong nonetheless. The mere fact that the man had spotted them at all seemed to imply he had been looking for them, which was absurd. Why would he expect them if every imperial knew the crown prince was not to be in attendance?

Luna and her escort marked the end of the imperial procession. Following that—though he complained—Noctis could provide no further excuses for why they should not retire to his rooms, as they had been meant to do in the first place. He dragged his feet for the sake of it. But they went.

Had it really only been two days ago when they had been here, packing for the trip to Altissia? This day alone seemed to stretch on for weeks. It was only mid-afternoon.

Noct's room was more or less as they had left it; someone had been in to tidy up after Noctis had torn through the closet and dumped the contents on the floor, but otherwise it appeared untouched. The boxes of possessions transported from his vacated apartment were now stacked in every available corner and the once-empty room was beginning to take on an inhabited feel again.

Noctis dropped face-first on his bed. Prompto picked through the boxes, looking for the comics that Noctis had refused to loan him a few days before. Gladio leaned near the window and looked out on the opposite side of the Citadel, where the violet light of the crystal's magic shot up from the center of the Citadel. Ignis stood by the door until the urge to pace won out over the need to remain composed.

They persisted in that fashion for another hour. Then someone knocked on the door and everyone flinched.

It seemed Ignis was not the only one on edge after that incident on the balcony. So much for the forced nonchalance.

"I got it," Gladio pushed away from the window and went to get the door. Ignis followed him. Noctis sat up, but he didn't get off his bed.

Outside was Gladio's father.

"Dad. What's going on down there? Is everything alright?" Gladio asked.

Rather than answer, Clarus stepped aside to reveal Lady Lunafreya.

"As Princess Reina promised," Clarus said.

Noct climbed to his feet slowly, as if in a daze; he stared at Lady Lunafreya and the metaphor of a fish out of water came to mind. He might have at least pretended to follow their advice to act like a prince in front of her.

"Luna…" Noct said.

Ignis and Gladio stepped out of the doorway so she could enter.

"Hello, Noctis." She was smiling; every inch the picture of royalty. Quite unlike Noct.

Ignis cleared his throat. "I think we might step outside for a moment."

"Yeah. Right, good call," Gladio said. He bowed hastily to Luna and ducked out into the hall.

"If you should need us, you know where to look." Ignis, too, bowed to Lunafreya before dragging a stunned and objectionate Prompto into the hall.

"But he said I could meet her!" Prompto said, once the door was shut.

"Some other time," Ignis said.

"So… what's going on?" Gladio asked Clarus for the second time.

"A great many things, most of which no one, including myself and—I suspect—King Regis, are privy to. The imperials have all arrived and been taken to the guest quarters, the Crownsguard is being quietly recalled from the city, and—as I understand it—the Kingsglaive has undergone a change in leadership."

Ignis' brow furrowed. "What happened to Captain Drautos?"

Clarus shrugged one shoulder. "I know little more than you. Her Highness merely implied that her dislike of him for all those years was well justified and that there were imperial traitors abound. Now, I am to deliver her desire that all four of you attend the ball being held at Caelum Via tonight in honor of our… guests. I will arrange transportation and an escort, but I will need all of you ready by six o'clock."

"Ah—Master Amicitia," Ignis said, "There is a distinct possibility that one of the imperials—a burgundy haired individual—observed us from the library balcony."

Clarus turned his calculating gaze on Ignis. "The chancellor saw  _you_?"

"The imperial chancellor?" Ignis asked.

"I can think of no other among the diplomatic party who matches that description," Clarus said.

Chancellor Ardyn Izunia was a man Ignis knew only by name and reputation. And his reputation was not favorable.

"Noct wanted to see Luna," Gladio said, by way of explanation.

Clarus was silent a moment. Then: "I see. The chancellor hinted that he knew your sister was back in Insomnia. I do not know why that, in particular, was of significance, but the information unsettled Princess Reina—and I would not trust Ardyn Izunia as far as I could throw him."

Gladio shifted uncomfortably. Ignis struggled to retain his upright composure. He should never have let Noctis make a detour to the balcony. Of course Reina had known something would happen. She had lived the future, had she not? If only they had been more careful. If only Ignis had been more insistent.

"I must away," Clarus said. "I'll see you all tonight. Six o'clock. Don't forget."

And he was gone, with little more discussion, leaving the four of them standing in the hallway.

"Hey!" Prompto said. "At least we get to wear the stuff we packed for Noct's wedding, now!"


	17. Noctis, with Luna

Whoa.

The door shut behind Luna. They'd spotted her from above when she came in with the other imperials but that was nothing like actually seeing her again. All those years they had written back and forth, keeping in touch as well as they could with Niflheim messing everything up, and all that time he had the same image of her in his head: a girl a little older than him—the prettiest girl he had ever laid eyes on—who always seemed to know everything.

Twelve years was a long time. He hadn't really thought about that, before now. When they'd talked about the treaty and their marriage, it had seemed like he'd never really been separated from Luna. They sent each other notes all the time. But holy hell, she had changed.

His brain stalled. He wasn't sure how long he stood there gawking at her. The same thought kept sticking in his head: she was going to marry  _him_? Like, she was totally okay with that? Except she was way out of his league and what did it matter if he was technically a prince when she was  _actually_ a princess?

"Noctis." She smiled at him.

Noct cleared his throat. "Um. Luna. Hi."

Yup. Super suave. What had Ignis said? She'd expect to see a fine prince? Well, he'd blown that chance, already.

For some reason her smile didn't waver.

"It's so good to see you again," she said.

"Uh, yeah. You too."

Words. Right. He was supposed to say those, wasn't he? He'd never been very good at that. Mostly he just avoided talking to people until they somehow got whatever point he wasn't trying to make. Or until Reina explained the point he wasn't trying to make to whomever he wasn't trying to make it to.

But he was all on his own, now. Why'd they all leave? So they wouldn't see him look like a dumb ass in front of Luna? Great. Thanks, guys.

"You grew up taller than me," she said.

"Yeah, well, at least I beat someone." Besides Rei. Who didn't really count, given that everyone and their dog was taller than her. Even Iris was taller than her.

Luna smiled, taking one step forward. "You have nothing to worry about."

"N-no?"

Yeah. Right. Nothing. Just standing in this room with her wishing he had actually learned how to have a conversation with someone. It had always seemed so easy when they were little. They just talked. Naturally. He never had to try and it always felt comfortable.

Twelve years changed a lot of things.

"You have grown into a handsome prince." She took another step forward, still smiling.

"Oh yeah? I like to think I'm still growing into it."

Real smooth. Not like she was properly grown up and actually ready to step into her role and all that. Not like he was supposed to be marrying her.

Actually, maybe he wasn't anymore. No one had said.

She smiled at his remark, apparently not put off by the fact that he sure as hell was not ready to be a king even if she was ready to be his Oracle.

"King Regis told me you were not in Insomnia… yet no sooner had I been taken to the gust chambers than Master Amicitia came to bring me here."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess it's sort of a secret that we're here. He probably didn't want to tell you in front of everyone." It was anyone's guess why it was supposed to be a secret in the first place, but whatever.

"Well, I am pleased to learn it was merely pretense." She beamed. No one looked at him like that. "I'm so happy to see you again, Noctis."

"Yeah. Me too," he said.

It just would have been nice if he wasn't quite so awkward about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am now comfortably far ahead in the writing of Reckoning that I feel safe posting two chapters a week, here. If I remember. So, expect another chapter on Friday. If I remember. If I don't post it... uh... someone yell at me and then I'll post it.


	18. Regis, Feeling Apprehensive

He would have been lying, had he claimed he wasn't apprehensive sitting beside Reina as she attempted to do on purpose what she had been avoiding for twelve years.

It had been unnerving for an eight year old to wake to the same terrifying visions night after night, of course, but he could never admit how nerve-wracking it had been to be her father during the same. He was meant to protect her. To make everything alright. Instead, he had been fumbling along without the slightest inkling of why or how his little girl was seeing the future in her dreams.

Now she was all grown up, neither needing nor wanting his protection.

Not that he had done much of either, these past few weeks. He had been full well resigned to the fact that the best he could give her—could give either of his children—was a chance to escape the treaty signing and supposed-armistice. It was less than he wanted to give. Then again, hadn't he always been forced to give them less than they deserved?

But these regrets did no one any good. Least of all him.

Beside him, Reina shifted, a furrow on her brow. He reached out to her reflexively, then stopped himself. She had said thirty minutes. It had hardly been two. So far as he could tell, she was not even asleep—though he had little concept of whether or not that was even necessary. She sat with her legs tucked beneath her and her hands resting in her lap, breathing evenly in spite of the expression on her face, but firmly upright.

After another minute, her eyes opened. Much as he wanted to believe that was the end and all was well, he knew his daughter better than that. He knew her Dreams better than that.

"I can't reach it." She shook her head, as if to clear it. "The In-Between. I used to be able to just… let go and drop into it, but now I'm tied up. I can  _see_  it—or feel it, or whatever you prefer—I can almost touch it. But it's as if I'm anchored here and I can't get out."

"Am I to understand that, last night, you Dreamed within your Dream?" Regis asked. It sounded ridiculous even to vocalize.

"Yes. I learned to control it, but…" The light of understanding crossed her face. Followed immediately by frustration. "But of  _course._ I could leave the physical world whenever I wanted to because my body was never  _really_ there. He always said I shouldn't be able to Dream while awake…"

So little of what she said made sense that Regis wouldn't have known which question to ask if he had the chance. She saved him the trouble, standing abruptly.

"Well. That is what it is. We do not have time for me to relearn my magic, so we must press on without the knowledge of what will come. As of dinner tonight, our cards will be on the table, regardless." She offered her arm.

Regis took it, allowing her to help him to his feet—albeit a bit more slowly and less gracefully than he might have liked. His knee screamed protests all the while.

"Iedolas has been clawing at Lucis for decades; he will not allow us to slip by lightly," he said.

"Iedolas is a pawn." Reina took his arm, lending her strength and balance. "No, it is not the emperor whom we should be concerned with, but Ardyn."

"The chancellor?" He asked, brow furrowed. Why on earth would the imperial chancellor be more of a threat than the emperor himself? And since when did she call him by his first name?

"Yes." Reina led him along toward the door, walking more slowly as he found his pace. "He has the potential to turn this inside out on us."

And yet she was almost smiling. A few weeks ago she had been disgusted even to hear his name in conversation. Regis had believed she hated him as much as she hated Drautos. But now—

It must have been something else.

"That he knows already of my presence is troubling," Reina said. "I had hoped to delay that until tonight, at least, but there's no helping it, now. We will simply have to be more cautious."


	19. Cor, At the Resort

The imperial procession must have made quite the spectacle on their way up to the roof, but Cor wasn't sorry to have missed them. While Regis and Clarus had gone on ahead, Cor had stayed behind with Reina, Noctis, and Noctis' retinue.

Reina had changed clothes again, though Cor couldn't have said what was wrong with the last dress. It had looked fine. Though perhaps that was exactly the point and 'fine' wouldn't do for the princess. Lucis would fall if she didn't make a stunning entrance.

Actually. It might. Cor wasn't prepared to call anything that Reina did frivolous anymore. Not after witnessing the cold calculation with which she had dismantled the empire's plans thus far.

The others looked fine as well. Reina had even ordered Cor to put on a suit.

It was itchy.

After all the other guests, imperial and Lucian alike, had ascended—and not a moment before—Cor stepped out of the car and pulled Reina's door open for her. He had driven her in her own aubergine sportscar. It didn't have quite the same timeless class that the Regalia boasted, but it was a smooth drive. Could have done with some extra leg room. And head room. Noctis' car—identical in every way, save that it was black and silver instead of purple and gold—pulled up to the curb behind them. Ignis stepped out of the driver's seat.

Reina took Cor's hand when he offered, but she took Noctis' arm when he caught up with them, which left Cor to join Noctis' retinue as the boys trailed after.

The resort was more lavish than the Citadel and less austere. Even the royal family's living quarters were more a home than a vacation destination. They walked through gilded halls, their footsteps deadened by plush velvet carpets, as resort staff along the way bowed low. As soon as Noctis and Reina had passed by, the serving staff straightened and exchanged excited looks and curious whispers. The prince and princess weren't supposed to be in Insomnia at all tonight.

The royal retinue stopped in the main atrium to await the lift. Two attendants stood on either side of the elevator and a guest or two drifted in from the hall behind them, but stopped—stunned—at the sight of the company. Otherwise, there were few people about. Just as well. It was going to be enough of a hassle watching for hidden blades throughout this dinner. He didn't need passersby giving Reina the side-eye as well. Why anyone thought it was a good idea to break bread with imperials, he would never know.

He wouldn't have even noticed the architecture if Prompto hadn't been gawking. Even then, he spared only a cursory look around; marble arches framed doorways in three directions and gold—probably brass—statues occupied alcoves all around the octagonal room. A chandelier like a thousand glowing strands of crystals hung overhead.

Who paid to stay in a resort in their own city just because it was pretty? Some people had more money than sense.

The lift chimed. They stepped in, performing a silent dance so the doors would open to Noctis and Reina in front of their group. Cor wanted to object that this would be an excellent opportunity for someone to execute a surprise attack, but he held his tongue. Who was going to ambush the prince and princess in Insomnia on the night before the signing ceremony? An imperial probably.

He stood behind Reina, anyway. But close behind her. Just in case.

"Who else knows we're here?" Noct asked.

"Father, Clarus, Luna, the Kingsglaive, and Ardyn."

"Huh?" Noctis turned to make a face at her. "Who's Ardyn?"

Reina opened her mouth, then seemed to think better of whatever she had been going to say. She smiled, shaking her head.

"A more complicated question than you realize. I fear it would take longer than this elevator ride to answer it. For now, suffice it to say, that Ardyn Izunia is the imperial chancellor."

Noctis stared at her until the lift chimed again. Then he faced forward.

"Here goes nothing," he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

"Smile, brother-dearest. Nothing unnerves our antagonists more."

Cor hoped that instruction didn't apply to him. Even if it did, he wasn't going to. Though he couldn't see her face when the doors finally slid open, he knew she was smiling. It wasn't only the imperials who were unnerved by that.

No sooner had they caught sight of the world outside—the pale blue sky over Insomnia as the last dusk light faded, a few dozen tables laid out immaculately, and a hundred courtiers, imperials, and guards—than fireworks burst overhead. Perfect serendipity. Then again, she could see the future, couldn't she? Perhaps it wasn't luck.

Heads turned. As his eyes swept the crowd, Cor couldn't see a single person  _not_ looking at them. Even the live music stuttered and quieted as the musicians allowed themselves to be distracted. Mostly they were shocked. Even those Crownsguards dotted across the venue, incognito as guests, appeared caught unaware. So the secret had been kept better than he had expected. The only ones who appeared unsurprised were those few Reina had already listed.

Reina and Noctis stepped out; Cor and the others kept close at their heels, providing what was—hopefully—a menacing honor guard for the twins with their unnerving smiles.

The guests—already standing with drinks in hand—bowed or curtsied hastily when the prince and princess swept past. Apparently they had interrupted the toast. Even Cor, who had little taste for the dramatic, was forced to appreciate Reina's flare.

Stairs curved up to the top level, and Reina and Noctis climbed them without giving note to the excited whispers their sudden appearance provoked. Reina nodded to a few courtiers and fixed her eyes ahead, where Regis was waiting for them. He looked pleased. He always did, when his children arrived.

"Father." Reina paused to curtsy before him. After a beat, Noctis bowed. Only after Regis motioned did they approach.

"My dear, you look lovely—" Regis took her hand. "—and Noctis—"

"Please don't say I look lovely."

Regis smiled. "I intended to remark upon your dignity, but have since changed my mind. Cor, you look terrible."

Cor bowed stiffly, as if this were a compliment, and took up a stance behind them where he could keep his back to the (unnecessarily elaborate) fish tank and see everyone who was looking at Reina. The music resumed. The guests exchanged looks and asked each other if they were meant to sit back down or if the toast was going to be finished.

"A surprise, indeed, King Regis!" Emperor Aldercapt approached, flanked by two imperial cronies. Flunkies. Whatever the official imperial word was. "We had no idea that the prince and princess were even in Insomnia!"

"A surprise for all of us," Regis said. Cor couldn't see his face, but his voice sounded like his smile was fake. "And, as we have so far been remiss—will you allow me to present my son, Crown Prince Noctis, and my daughter, Princess Reina?"

"An honor, Prince Noctis!" Everything the emperor said was just enthusiastic enough to make it clear that he meant none of it.

"Uh… yeah. Pleased to meet you," Noctis said.

"And Princess Reina—" Aldercapt went so far as to kiss her hand. Cor hoped they had individually packaged sanitary napkins at the tables. "—as lovely as all accounts."

"Your flatter me, Emperor Aldercapt. Accounts are most often overblown," she said.

Cor tuned out the remainder of the polite—and strained—conversation. Eventually, after approximately half the guests had given up and sat back down, they did have a proper toast. Cor did not partake. Nor, he noted, did Noctis' retinue, though Noctis himself had joined Lunafreya on the opposite side of the landing and both had been served tall glasses of champagne. Reina, predictably, kept to Regis' side. By extension, so did Cor.

Dinner was served not long after. And, though Regis shot him a glance that said very clearly 'will you  _please_ stop hovering?' Cor continued to hover throughout. Dinner was for people whose stomachs were not full of worms. He would never understand how politicians did it.

He was resigned to a night of tense posturing and little else, though he kept the expectation of trouble foremost in his mind, rather than grow complacent. The political dance had only begun.

As the third course was being cleared away, the imperial chancellor sauntered over to the royal table. Cor's posture stiffened. He didn't need to understand the why to know Izunia was trouble.

"Well, well, well, Your Royal Highness." He may have been the only person in the city—including the emperor himself—who would walk up to the king's table and completely disregard Regis. His eyes were fixed only on Reina. "It's been too long. I  _do_ hope you haven't been losing sleep over this treaty. Pleasant dreams?"

"How kind of you to inquire, Chancellor; do you know, I  _did_ spend many nights tossing and turning over this decision and then, quite suddenly, it all became very clear." Reina leaned forward, putting her elbows on the table. Cor could only see her profile from where he stood. She was smiling but he couldn't decide if it was fake or not. It must have been.

"How lovely! And here I was thinking you might be adrift. But if you were, I would—of course—be willing to have a heart-to-heart. One dreamer to another." The chancellor, meanwhile, was smiling with the same self-satisfied smirk he had been wearing all night. Right at home, already.

_Insomnia isn't yours, yet, you son of a—_

"That is ever so generous of you, but I believe I have gotten the hang of it. An uncle of mine showed me the roads to walk—so to speak—and once you know how to open your eyes—well. Then dreams aren't so terrifying anymore, are they?"

The chancellor considered her for a moment, his eyes narrowing as intrigue twisted across his face. What the hell were they talking about?

And then, quite suddenly, he held out his hand. "Dance with me, Princess. Go on. Say you will."

Cor couldn't have been the only person holding his breath. Regis' eyebrows snapped together, Noctis and Luna's conversation ceased, and, off to the other side of their table, Ignis took a step and ran into Gladio's arm. Gladio at least had the good sense to keep Ignis restrained, but he was staring at Reina, as well.

Reina's eyes never left the chancellor and that almost-smile never left her face.

"I would be delighted." She took his hand.

And he—still smirking, still smug—led her away.

This time  _Cor_ stepped forward.

Regis lifted a hand. Any and all complaints were stifled. He shot Cor a warning glance over his shoulder—though he wasn't any happier with the arrangement, himself—and pretended to settle into polite conversation with Noctis. In reality, both of them were still watching Reina.

Then again, so was the rest of the party.


	20. Regis, at Dinner

It was, to all appearances, a lovely evening.

If Regis hadn't been sitting down to share dinner with dozens who wanted nothing short of his death, it might actually have been a lovely evening. But, even in the company of Lunafreya, Noctis was tense, and Reina…

He couldn't read Reina at all, anymore.

She remained at his elbow throughout and took his arm when necessary or appropriate, which is precisely what he would have expected of her before this whole mess. But that was where the similarities ended. She smiled, she made polite conversation and, so far as Regis could tell, she was completely at ease. Not even Reina was that good at acting.

Or she hadn't been, two days ago.

They sat and they ate and, for the most part, she was silent. Her eyes were on the party.

And then the imperial chancellor came.

Regis' first impulse was to step in front of her—so to speak—but she addressed Izunia adroitly and Regis was little more that an accessory. They were speaking—as was so often the case in political situations—of considerably more than their words suggested. But Regis could follow nothing more than the superficial layer. The subject, whatever it was, was not for his ears.

He was just as surprised as the others when the chancellor asked her to dance.

And as soon as the surprise faded, anger bubbled up in its place. She couldn't possibly refuse him—this was an armistice and they were meant to be making overtures of peace—but everyone had their eyes on her, waiting for her to do just that.

Regis wished she had.

It would have been better than watching her take his hand and be led away to the dance floor by a snake like that because, just for a moment, before she turned away from him, Regis thought she did mean the words she said. Was it all an act? Or was she really delighted to dance with him?

After a half-hearted attempt to make conversation with Noctis and pretend that nothing had happened, Regis rose from his seat to watch them descend the stairs to the middle level. Everyone else was doing much the same—if they hadn't been, he would have avoided drawing such attention.

The dance floor was empty. They walked side by side, hands clasped and held up between them. The chancellor had a certain inescapable, carefree flamboyance—it showed in the sway of his step and the lift of his free hand. Reina, all austere grace and poise, should have looked completely out of place beside him—or vice versa—but the fact was that neither did. Indeed, if he hadn't known better, Regis would have said they had not only danced together before, but frequently.

They took the center of the dance floor. The chancellor removed his hat and flicked it over the rooftop—miraculously it landed in the middle of someone's table and not off the edge. The orchestra quieted and they took their places.

From where he stood, Regis couldn't hear any words spoken between them—not even in that lull before the music began again. The chancellor leaned closer and whispered in Reina's ear, drawing a laugh from her. Regis clenched his hand on his cane.

Cor came to stand beside him.

"Not quite the olive branch either side was expecting." He nodded to the side, where Aldercapt stood flanked by two of his men, watching with a furrow on his brow—whether of confusion or disapproval, Regis couldn't have said.

The music began. As did the waltz.

Noctis appeared at Regis' other side. They watched in silence as the Reina and Ardyn turned the full length of the dance floor below, evidently conversing, though it was anyone's guess what about.

"If I didn't know better… I'd say she was having fun," Noctis said.

Indeed, she looked it. Perhaps not the single most perplexing thing that had happened in the past twelve hours, but it was near the top of an ever-growing list. For the life of him, Regis could not guess what was happening in Reina's head or what her plans were—for the imperial chancellor or otherwise. She said he was a threat. And yet…

"We can but trust that she knows the steps to her own dance," Regis said.


	21. Ardyn, Dancing

This day had been surprise after delightful surprise. Certainly it qualified as a good day. A good month, really, what with Lucis scurrying around and tripping over their own legs as they tried to flee and realized they were boxed in. A good year, if one counted all the preemptive preparation that had led to this point.

A good decade.

No, a good century.

One of the best. It tied with that first century, but only because that one had been half wonderful and half hell on Eos. Well. So had all the others.

But this one. This one had potential to be the best century that Ardyn had lived through.

After so many spent planning, ingratiating, finding his fit and slowly—ever so slowly—tweaking strings as he wove his web, everything was beginning to come together. Lucis would fall to Niflheim tomorrow night, their precious crystal stolen away by a madman who believed he was the Chosen One—Iedolas, of course, though the same descriptors might easily have been applied to Ardyn, under certain circumstances. The only difference was that Ardyn actually had been Chosen.

And, of course, that as far as madness went he had Iedolas beat hands down.

After their precious kingdom crumbled into dust there would be just

One

Caelum

Left.

Besides Ardyn, of course. Ah, and he would be driven, little Noctis would. So driven to take what was rightfully his and vanquish the darkness to serve his Gods and masters.

Dance, puppet, dance.

Let his power grow and grow until it was worth consuming. And then. Ah. And  _then_. Ardyn would kill him and end this charade, this plague masquerading as a blessing.

When Ardyn had arrived in Lucis with the diplomatic party that morning, every peg had been sliding into place. The point of no return was fast approaching.

But there was something else… A surprise. A snag in his plans.

A delicious, delightful surprise.

The prince and princess were in the Crown City once more, after having left on their father's instructions. And only one thing would have brought them back.

The little Dreamer.

So she had seen. So she knew. So she anticipated everything that would happen tomorrow night and if she  _knew_  then she would dismantle whatever she could as fast as she could. Oh, but Ardyn had been making plans for millennia longer than she had been breaking them.

He could twist her, he could crack her. He could drop this hint here or there and make her think—make her doubt. And so while she was making plans against him—though she didn't yet realize it—he was making plans against her. Of the two of them, he had the advantage of knowing precisely what he was up against.

Or so he had thought.

But he dropped his hints, set his bait on the table…

And she sat back in her chair and  _smiled_.

Everything he offered up she already had—and then more. So much more. Not only was she unsurprised to learn that he knew of her Dreams, not only could she control them—contrary to reports from all of his sources—she knew who he was.

And that, more than anything, caught his attention.

The rest of the world fell away. What was the conflict of kingdoms to him? What was the press of time?

Here.

Here was a puzzle.

And it was just begging to be poked and prodded.

So he danced with her. He extended his hand and pulled her away while her darling friends and family looked on, aghast. Poor fools. This was a dance beyond their station.

He looked down at her—she was a tiny little thing, wasn't she?—and sharp blue eyes stared back up. How very curious.

He leaned in closer, placing his hand on her bare back as the orchestra hummed. "Do you know, I had every intention of remaining discrete. And here you've drawn me out, little Dreamer. How uncouth of you."

Reina laughed. "So sorry to ruin your plans."

"Let's not start this night with lies. It's so… common."

The song began properly; he stepped and she reacted, following the slightest motion on his part. She was a good dancer. Or she knew things she couldn't possibly know.

Ah. But she did, didn't she?

"Very well," she said. The smile remained fixed on her face, but all emotion drained out of it until he might well have been staring at a statue. Magnificent. How did she make her face do that? It wasn't quite as disturbing as bleeding Starscourge from her eyes, but it was still lovely to behold.

"You know that I know everything the emperor has planned," she said, "And from that you have extrapolated the obvious: that all of your traitors in Lucis are gone. You also know that I can look ahead at will. Even if you change plans, I will see them. I will counter them."

"Quite the conundrum," Ardyn said. "Whatever are we to do?"

"That is rather the topic of discussion, isn't it?"

Likely he could have made plans in little enough time that she wouldn't be able to Dream them. But what a shame to rush such a sweet reward. So the little Dreamer was standing guard over Lucis. Poor little Dreamer. Willing to give so much to protect an artifact that had already cast her aside for her brother.

Hm. Why did that ring a bell?

"You have no idea what you are fighting for, do you? Saving your brother just so he can die." Ardyn put on a look of mock pity. "If only you knew the truth."

She laughed again.

"Oh, Ardyn.  _I know everything_."

Ardyn's eyes narrowed. She called him by his name so casually, as if they were old friends. "Oh you do, do you?"

"Yes," she said, simply. "You already taught me everything you know.

_He_ had taught her…?

Curious and more.

"So allow me to make a proposition," she said, "We have the Ring of the Lucii. I might easily command the full might of all one hundred and thirteen generations of our family from your brother until now. I also wield the strength of the hundredth generation. And soon—ten years from now—the ring will be replete with the crystal's magic.  _My_ strength will outstretch that of the Astrals. What might  _ours_ do?"

Ardyn's brain skipped a beat at her casual disclosure of information that no one alive knew. It took a moment before the full weight of what she said sank in.

Was she really…?

Oh, this was  _rich_.

"Are you negotiating a détente? Daddy-dearest won't like that."

"What my father does or does not like is immaterial at this moment."

_Oh?_

This day really did keep getting better.

"Allow me to be perfectly frank." Even the pretense of a smile dropped from her face. The expression that she wore instead was one all too familiar to him: spite and malice, merciless and sharpened to a point. It wasn't the impotent anger of her father as he sat on his throne and tried to wiggle out of death. It was the look of someone who would break the world to accomplish her goals because she had nothing to lose.

"The only thing that I care about right now is keeping my family and friends safe. You and your Astrals and your crystal and your Starscourge and everything else can  _go to hell_. Eos and everyone on it mean nothing to me if my family is dead."

Ahh. There it was. The motivation he had expected from her, but with so much more rancor.

"But," she said, "If they are safe then I am free to think of other wrongs that may exist in our world. And I'll have all this power to put to use against them."

Ardyn was smiling. When had that started? Maybe it had just never stopped.

"So you ask me—what?" He asked. "To turn on the empire and help you dismantle them?"

"No, though if you choose to I won't try to stop you. All I ask is that you do nothing at all. I don't need your help to take Niflheim down," she said.

"Such confidence." Ardyn smirked. "Do you know? I think I believe you."

She met his gaze impassively, but the hint of a smile tugged at her lips.

Ah, but of course, in return he wasn't permitted to kill the Chosen King. A trade off he wasn't certain he was willing to make. She would share with him her power—poetic justice, really, that the gift of the Gods should be turned and used against them—but he hardly needed it.

What he might need, eventually, was to not have her against him. A little Dreamer who could see into the future and pick apart his plans before they came to fruition was certainly someone to have on his side. But…

He could always kill her now, take Lucis as intended (more or less), and continue on with neither her help nor her antagonism.

He pulled her tighter against his chest as they made the next turn of the floor and leaned closer.

"And what is to stop me from simply seizing everything I want right now? You have taken something of a risk, stepping into this dance with me tonight."

It was peculiar to be on the receiving end of perfect, self-assured confidence. All she did was smile, like she had been waiting for him to ask. Had she really already known exactly how this conversation would go?

"No more than the risk you took walking into Insomnia to deliver the terms of this armistice, knowing we could do nothing to you." She tilted her head back, neither put off by his insinuated threats, nor the rapidly diminishing space between them. "You aren't going to kill me."

"And why is that?"

"Because by now you're already wondering… how do I know information that only you should have? Why did you share it with me?" The only other place he had ever seen a smile like that was in the mirror. "And what else do I know about you?"

That.

Was an excellent point.

"Are you going to tell me?" He smiled in spite of himself—intrigued, amused, enthralled.

"When Insomnia is safe, I'll tell you anything you like."

" _Anything?_ " His smile widened.

She laughed again. "How else do you think I learned your secrets? Quid pro quo. Tit for tat. There was nothing about me you did not know."

She was a singular woman. Peculiar.

"Wouldn't you like to know why?" She asked. "All you have to do… is sit back and enjoy the show."

He considered her curiously for a moment. This evening had taken all sorts of turns he had never anticipated. And...

"It's been a while since I didn't have to lift a finger to enjoy a spectacle."

The song was drawing to a close.

"Then we have an accord," she said.

Ardyn lead one more turn, then spun her into a low dip so that his nose nearly grazed her sternum. "We have an accord, little Dreamer."

A round of scattered, bemused applause greeted them when they straightened as everyone present tried to decide whether or not they were meant to approve of the display. As if it had ever been for them.

"One more dance," Ardyn said. "To seal the deal."

That look again—a little smile on an otherwise neutral face, as if it had slipped out without her noticing.

"One more dance," she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ardyn POV, important character moments, AND a long chapter? I sure am spoiling you this week. 
> 
> But wait!
> 
> There's more!
> 
> Episode 1 of the Remnants audio drama will stream live tomorrow in honor of the two year anniversary of Fractured (though not two years on this site, notably, but I've still been doing this for two years. Seems like longer). You can find it on our YouTube channel if you're following us. If you're not: why? Links to the Fractured audio drama/podfic are all over the place: on my profile, in the Fractured summary, and in my Works under [Podfic] Fractured.


	22. Ignis, Restrained

If not for the tension and lingering threat of ill deeds to come, Ignis would have been honored to have dinner with the royal family atop Caelum Via. As it was, however, he had more pressing concerns at hand.

The imperials, for one. The fact that they were walking into the adder's nest armed only with formal attire. Usually he preferred to have some sort of strategy before entering into this sort of situation. As it was, he could only trust that Reina had a plan even if he was privy to none of it. All he knew was that he was meant to attend as a part of Noctis' retinue and that their dinner guests almost certainly wanted both Noct and Reina dead.

And there was also that last bit. Only a minor problem, really. Nothing to get bent out of shape over.

Just Reina, dancing with the imperial chancellor.

No. Not just dancing.

She was smiling. She was laughing. She was engaged in conversation. She was coquetting.

And he had never wanted so much to step out of his place and do something incredibly foolish.

Even in the face of all those—arguably more important—issues, he would have been lying if he said he hadn't noticed how lovely she looked tonight. Her dress—the same midnight black as her hair—was simultaneously elegant and alluring. From the front it might have been a sheath gown with a straight neckline and a mermaid skirt. Except the arm holes were cut too long, exposing her sides all the way down to her hips and the back was all but missing.

And the imperial chancellor's hand rested between her shoulder blades, against her bare skin.

Ignis must have taken a step forward when Reina had taken the chancellor's hand, because he had run into Gladio's arm.

Just as well. He would have done something stupid, otherwise.

Instead he watched, though he would have preferred to do most anything else. He should have been paying attention to the other imperials, but all eyes were on the dance floor. As the song dragged on he counted the seconds, the rounds they made on the dance floor, and the times she laughed. For every inch the chancellor pulled her closer, every centimeter his handed drifted down her bare back, Ignis' hands tightened on the railing.

The song ended.

The dance didn't.

Before Ignis could even breathe a sigh of relief, the chancellor pulled her back to the middle of the floor and close enough that her chest touched him.

Did no one else want this to end?

King Regis, Noctis, and Cor were all against the railing looking over. Cor stood at parade rest; it was almost possible to believe he wasn't paying attention, but Ignis caught the flick of his eyes as he watched them. King Regis wasn't even pretending not to watch; his hands clenched so hard—one on the rail, one on his cane—that his knuckles turned white. And Noctis had walked away from Lunafreya in spite of every protest he had given when they were separated earlier that afternoon.

No. Ignis wasn't the only one wishing it would end.

Gladio and Prompto had remained beside Ignis. Gladio was watching him instead of the floor, and with good reason. Prompto was uncomfortable and uncertain of where to look or what to do.

Farther down, closer to where the emperor stood—also watching the dance floor—were Lady Lunafreya and her brother Ravus. Lunafreya held her hands clasped in front of her, her face a mask of perfect calm, but Ravus' expression was of poorly veiled fury. It was what Ignis expected his own face looked like. If Ignis hadn't been so preoccupied, he might have found that fact interesting.

The second song ended; this time Reina and the chancellor took their bows before he led her back up the stairs with her hand tucked around his arm.

"Ah, King Regis!" The chancellor said, as if he hadn't known the king was watching every move he made. "Most gracious of you to allow me a sliver of your daughter's time. I return her to you, quite unharmed."

His Majesty's lips tightened in response.

"Thank you for the dance, Chancellor." Reina granted him another smile that made Ignis' heart ache.

The chancellor took her hand with the pretense of releasing her, but instead he bowed and lifted her fingers to his lips. "It was my pleasure."

And he walked away. And Ignis could breathe again for three consecutive seconds.

"Well." Her eyes skipped over the assembled guests, imperial and Lucian alike. "I would so hate to waste an empty dance floor."

Ignis stopped breathing again. Surely—they both had more important concerns; she couldn't possibly—

"Commander." She extended her hand to Ravus. "Would you dance with me?"

_Ravus!?_

For a moment, Ravus' face showed the same shock that Ignis felt. Then it shifted to cool neutrality. He took her hand without a word.

Gladio's grasped Ignis' shoulder. "Keep it together, Iggy."

Ignis jerked away from him. "I know my place, Gladio."

He just wished it was somewhere else.


	23. Ravus, Entranced

They arrived in Insomnia in what could loosely be considered morning. Ravus had never seen it before, but distant memories almost made him believe that he had. Memories of a chill spring day sitting in the fog of green Tenebrae with a little girl who was sick for home. She tried to tell him she wasn't—as if she thought being homesick would make her less grown-up—but in the next breath she described the Crown City in such detail and splendor that he might have been standing in Insomnia instead of Tenebrae.

He had scarcely thought of those days in the past twelve years. They were from another life. A happy life, when he had a mother and a home. Now when he thought back to those few weeks, all he remembered was King Regis, the coward of the Caelums, and his Chosen son.

But, standing before the towering stone gates and looking up at the glow of the Wall above, it all came back.

He wanted to look on the city and feel disgusted. He wanted to believe it couldn't hold a candle to Tenebrae. And he might have, if not for that little girl. But when they caught sight of the Citadel, rising up in the center of the city with a great beam of light shooting from its midst, he saw the beauty she had described.

Would she be here?

Ravus shook his head. It didn't matter, anyway. Insomnia would fall tomorrow night. King Regis would die. And Ravus would have his ring—the artifact of the Gods finally within the hands that could change the world. If they left it to Prince Noctis then all of Eos was doomed.

They were presented before the court and greeted by the king himself. Ravus had to fight not to spit at his feet. That would have been base. He contented himself instead with a scowl that left no space for guessing what he thought of the Lucian king. The coward king.

The Caelums were a blight. It was a mistake to leave the ring and the crystal in their hands. Except—

Well. She wasn't present, anyway.

The Lucians hosted a lavish dinner on top of their tallest resort, complete with fireworks and caviar. Fools. Did they actually believe this was peace?

It was nearly a complete waste of time. But—just late enough to be called late and just early enough to miss nothing important—she arrived.

He only knew it was her because everyone stood and a murmur of 'Your Highness' swept through the crowd as she passed through with her twin. Without the context clues he never would have guessed that she was the same little girl he had known in Tenebrae.

Twelve years ago, she had been a peculiar child—cute, perhaps, but extraordinary only in that she spoke and acted as if she were ten years older. Or she had tried and frequently succeeded.

Now she was the woman she had always been pretending to be.

She was elegant. She was graceful. She was composed. She was  _beautiful_. And she was in charge from the instant the lift doors opened.

Ravus nearly forgot to be disgusted by her choice of companion.

But Noctis was inescapable in his own right—for all the opposite reasons. How could someone so clumsy and incompetent be the Chosen King? Quite simply: he couldn't.

Neither of them addressed Ravus; Noctis glared in his direction while Ravus stared back and Reina inclined her head politely. He wasn't going to bow; he had no allegiance to the Lucians, but anything less was inappropriate for a woman of her standing. By the time he had decided to return the gesture—nothing more or less than she had given—she wasn't even looking at him, anymore.

Fool, Ravus. He hadn't thought of her in twelve years; why should she have thought of him? They were standing on opposite sides of a chasm and no one was planning on building any bridges. But he thought of that little girl and he almost looked for the rope.

He spent dinner watching her, trying to see the girl behind the woman.

Her nose was unchanged. Her hair as well. But the same could have been said of her brother—sitting with Luna, conversing with her, as if—ugh.

He turned his eyes back to the princess. And he found the most piercing eyes staring back at him. She caught his gaze across the floor and held it like a physical grasp he couldn't break.

And he realized.

She was still ten years older than she was supposed to be.

The woman who looked out at him wasn't a little princess who had spent her life walled up safe in her tower. She was a woman who had lost everything she had ever loved and, in spite of that, had clawed her way back to her feet and continued walking. He knew that look because it was the same one he saw in the mirror.

She smiled. An enigmatic smile, impossible to decipher—was she pleased to see him again, or was that the self-assurance of a ruler preparing to crush her enemies?

And then she looked away. The spell broke and Ravus was freed. He took a breath and drained his champagne more quickly than was proper. Though he turned back to pick at his meal, he continued to cast glances in her direction, throughout. She made polite conversation like a diplomat and a politician. She issued commands to her bodyguard like a general. She leaned closer to her father like a daughter and an attendant.

And she took Ardyn Izunia's hand, smiling and speaking and laughing with him.

Ravus rose and followed—as did everyone else—when they descended to the dance floor. Izunia was a man with his own agenda. If the emperor wanted to believe his smiles and honeyed words, that was his business, but Ravus wouldn't have trusted Izunia at his back.

He also didn't trust Izunia with Reina.

Lunafreya returned to his side. Evidently, her dinner partner had abandoned her to have a hurried conference with his father. Ravus stepped forward so that, even though they were on the opposite side of the stairs from the Lucian royals, he stood in between her and them. He meant to protect her even if she didn't recognize the charlatans standing before her.

"I gather that she has grown into a capable woman," Luna said after a moment.

"Have you a point?" Ravus asked.

"If you had misgivings about her choice of company…" She left the sentence unfinished.

"I do not fear for her safety," Ravus snapped.

It had been a lie when he began speaking. In the two seconds it took to complete the sentence, he believed it. He had seen what was behind her eyes. Perhaps Izunia was a loaded firearm with no safety but Ravus couldn't believe that the woman he had seen would ever take a man like the chancellor at face value.

In spite of that surety, it was uncomfortable watching them dance. Something gnawed at his stomach, angry and itching.

When they began the second dance, he knew what it was.

And it was equally, if not more, ridiculous than believing she might fall prey to Izunia's machinations.

He was here to watch Lucis fall and take the ring for himself. He was not here to dance with princesses and reforge lost connections from a decade ago.

It didn't occur to him that he could have walked away until the second dance was through and Izunia had brought her back up the stairs. By then it was over, anyway. He would put it aside and desist with such pointless thoughts.

He had all but turned away when her voice caught him.

"Commander—"

And held him. Her hand extended.

"Would you dance with me?"

Reina Lucis Caelum. The only Caelum he couldn't condemn, because in those few weeks she had been as near to him as his own little sister. And, though none would listen, she had tried to save Tenebrae. Even Ravus, young fool that he had been, believed the same thing everyone else had.

They were merely nightmares.

Nightmares of Tenebrae burning and faceless men falling from the sky. Nightmares of Ravus dragging her from the path of gunfire. Nightmares of his mother—

She was still holding her hand out to him.

He took it.

It wasn't until they were on the dance floor that he remembered he hadn't danced in twelve years, either. And yet, there he was, standing in the middle of the Crown City with all the diplomats in Lucis and Niflheim staring at him and, arguably, the most desirable dance partner in the entire capital.

Ravus set his jaw. He remembered where his hands went, at least. The rest was trivial. Of everything he had done since the last time they had met, this was undoubtedly the most insignificant hurdle. It was just a ridiculous dance.

What was he doing, anyway? He had more important things to worry about than—

Ugh.

Reina was as tiny as she had been twelve years ago. But with his hand on her back he could feel muscle flex beneath his palm. Hers was the grace of a duelist, not a dancer.

That didn't mean she couldn't have danced circles around him.

The song began, but Ravus hesitated on the first step. Reina stepped instead, hand tightening on his arm to lead him along. That was  _his_ job, Gods damn—

But any sharp words he had for her died on his tongue. She lead him for two turns until he had his bearings and fell into half-forgotten steps. From her face, it was impossible to tell whether or not she had even done it on purpose. But she had. She wasn't the sort of woman who took control on accident. Perhaps she did it naturally, but she would do it intentionally as well.

Once Ravus knew where he was putting his feet—and only then—she spoke.

"Ravus," she said, "It has been some time."

The statement said more than her words. The last time he had seen her, King Regis had been dragging her away. She had looked back when Ravus had called out for help.

Her father hadn't.

"I wish the situation allowed for a reunion, but I fear that is simply not the world that either of us live in. This is the closest I can grant you to a private conversation."

Here, in the middle of the dance floor, with three dozen people watching them. This was her private conversation. Then again, he hadn't heard a word of what she had spoken to Izunia.

"Perhaps another time," she said. As if there would be another time.

Ravus hissed, more annoyed with himself than with her. "I have no need of your polite conversation, Princess. I am here for one reason and one reason only."

Far from being offended or put off, she smiled. Not an amused smile: a regretful one.

"Indeed," She said. "You desire the Ring of the Lucii."

How could she know he wanted the ring?

"I know you would have no difficulty killing my father—at least in theory, if not in practice—for the price of the ring. Do you have the same lack of inhibitions where my life is concerned?"

He stared down at her, incredulous. Then his eyebrows snapped together and he looked away—anywhere else was better than her, if she was going to keep staring at him with those eyes like she could see straight into his mind.

"I would rather not fight you for it," she said. "You would lose; I would prefer not to watch you die for a second time. It was bad enough the first."

At first he thought she was talking about Tenebrae, but no. The look on her face said she had watched him die in the most literal sense. If anyone else had said it, he would have called them mad. But the last time they had dismissed her as fanciful, his mother had died and his home had burned.

"What did you Dream?" He dropped his voice; maybe no one could hear them from the dance floor, but he preferred not to tempt fate.

"I Dreamed everything from now until ten years from now. Would you like to know what happens if everything you have planned comes to fruition?"

Her voice said he wouldn't. But he did, anyway.

"My father will die. General Glauca will cut the ring from his hand and later run him through. It will come to you; you would be waiting for it, of course, but you would have no objections to Father dying, either. You'll put it on. The Lucii will be merciful to you. They will only turn your arm into ash instead of your entire body. They do not grant their power to those who would take it for themselves." She said all of it in a level, neutral tone, as if they were discussing the appetizers and wine. But she wasn't through.

"Over the next two months you will watch your sister drain away her life force, summoning Astral after Astral to form the covenants that will give Noctis the power he needs in the fight to come. It will eat you up inside, but no matter how you plead she will never stop. It will be only a matter of time before the Astrals take all of her—but she'll never makes it that far. Ardyn will stab her after she forms the last covenant with the Hydraean. You will nearly kill Noctis for that, but Ignis will be on hand to stop you. So you'll withdraw to Niflheim to confront Ardyn while you question everything you have ever believed about this world. In the end, nothing you will do really matters. He will kill you, too, and give you over to the Starscourge. You will die twice. The second time you'll beg us for it. And I'll wish once more that I could have done better by you."

The song had stopped. They had stopped moving and were standing in the middle of the floor while their small audience gave a lukewarm applause, but Ravus didn't even remember dancing.

He wanted to believe she was lying. She  _was_ lying. She only wanted him not to kill her father—she still wouldn't admit how much he deserved it.

But if they had believed her in Tenebrae…

"What must I do?" He asked.

"Ask me to dance."

What?

He blinked, and glanced around the landing. There was no where he could talk to her but this dance floor. And if they stood here too long in hushed conversation with the emperor and everyone else watching…

"Will you honor me with one more dance, Your Highness?" He forced the questions out.

"I would be delighted, Commander."

The lull in their conversation stretched on longer than was comfortable as the next song began and they fell back to automatic motions. Ravus watched her intently throughout.

"Well?" He asked.

"Stand with me instead of against me," she said.

Ravus fought back a snarl. "I will  _not_ work beneath that sad excuse for a king, whom you call Father."

"Forget about my father. I hold the power. Regardless of who sits on the throne, right now,  _I_ rule Lucis."

That was not the little girl he remembered. The one who sat quietly at dinner and stared at her plate, except when she shot her beloved father hopeful looks across the table. The one who stood in the hall holding her stuffed chocobo and pretending not to cry when she watched her father walk away. The one who always wanted to talk about her father when he wasn't around and went starry-eyed when he was.

Ravus considered her in silence for a long moment.

"It seems we have both been remade by these twelve years," he said at last.

"Twenty-two. And just the past ten have made a lasting impression on me."

Yes. She was older than she was meant to be.

"And if I stand with you?" He asked.

"Then I will save Luna's life. And yours…" She smiled and again it was completely devoid of amusement. "But that doesn't matter to you, does it?"

"No." Only Luna's.

"No." She wasn't just agreeing to his declaration of motivation. She was agreeing with the motivation itself.

She had lost everything, too. Now she was holding onto it with both hands and would give anything to protect it.

"For Lunafreya's safety." Ravus spoke, hardly moving his lips. "I will swear my life and everything I am to you."

He had made worse bargains for her. Like selling his soul to Niflheim. Something told him Reina wasn't interested in his soul.

Then again. She had changed.

"That will do," she said.

They danced without words for the remainder of the song while Ravus cemented his resolution to betray the empire. It hardly mattered. They had never owned his loyalty. But Reina… Well, perhaps she could.

It wasn't until the final turn and dip that he remembered.

"Reina—" He pulled her closer, leaning lower under pretense of drawing out the finish. "General Glauca—"

"Yes." She only smiled that little enigmatic smile again when he put her back on her feet. "I know."

She tucked her hand around his arm. It took a full second before he realized what he was meant to do and moved his feet again. Eyes followed where they walked, as did the lukewarm applause. When they reached the top of the stairs, her hold loosened on his arm.

"Thank you for the dances, Commander—it is so lovely to see you again, after all these years." Her hand slipped down his arm and she caught his hand, squeezing it once when she met his gaze. "Perhaps when this is all over, we can catch up properly."

And, in spite of the perfect political dance she was performing, he believed that she wanted to.


	24. Cor, Awake at Night

The remainder of the reception dinner passed without note. Except for the part where Reina went from dancing with the imperial chancellor to dancing with the imperial high commander, and then both of them spent the rest of the night watching her like hungry wolves. If Cor hadn't been assured that she could handle herself, he would have started standing in front of her instead of behind her.

As it was, he kept close enough to be seen. And to see. The princess was drawing a great deal of attention tonight and Cor didn't like any of it. A quarter of the guests were the Crownsguards Cor and Clarus had smuggled in on three hours' notice. Of the remaining three-quarters, roughly half had a vested interest in the death of the entire royal family, but Reina in particular was vying for attention. What was she thinking, dancing with two of the most powerful imperials in Lucis?

At least the remainder of the Kingsglaive was in attendance as well. Reina's new captain was still wearing his Glaive formals, but he seemed to have taken to his new position well. That was one less thing to worry about. On the other hand, the imperials had almost certainly noticed that their general was not present and had been unreachable all afternoon.

As Reina had said, the cards were all on the table now. But he wouldn't have put it past Aldercapt to have something up his sleeve.

By the time the evening finally wound down and Cor was permitted to escort the princess back to the Citadel, he was sure he hadn't taken one full breath in two hours.

Not that the Citadel was much better.

The royal family took the lift to the upper levels. Cor followed automatically, without waiting for Reina's orders. Noctis' retinue hesitated outside the lift until he said, "You guys coming or what?" After which they scrambled aboard.

Strange. Cor hadn't been a bodyguard in almost thirty years, but he fell back into it like a well-remembered stance. Muscle memory.

The only sound was the whir of the elevator as it ascended. Prompto stifled a yawn, Gladio shoved him into the side of the lift, and Ignis stood with his arms crossed, contemplating his shoes. Reina stood between her father and brother, both hands wrapped around Regis' arm.

The lift brought them to the royal lounge, where Noctis dropped backward over the side of an armchair with a dramatic groan. The others settled a little more gracefully: Reina helped Regis to the sofa and folded herself beside him, and Noctis' retinue joined them after a beat. Cor stood. There was a wall behind the sofa that Reina was sitting on. That was where he wanted his back.

"And now?" Regis broke the silence.

"Now we wait," Reina said. "The board is set. The next move is Aldercapt's."

"So we can sleep, now?" Noctis yawned.

"Yes," she said. "In fact, that is an excellent idea. I believe we could all do with the rest."

She turned to look pointedly at Regis who, Cor had little doubt, had hardly slept in days. He looked worse for the wear. Not that he ever looked well these days, but this was worse than usual.

"Especially you, Father," Reina said.

"Especially  _you_ , my dear."

Gods. Were they going to mutually fuss over each other? They could go on like this all night. No one had any right to be so sickeningly concerned over another person.

Better to be distantly concerned and in denial about it.

"As you say, Father. I will go to bed if you do."

"We have an accord."

But of course she was going to break it. Either Regis didn't see it or he chose to ignore it. She bid goodnight to all of them and walked Regis to his rooms. Once they were gone, Noctis rolled out of his armchair and stumbled off to find his own bed, waving vaguely for his retinue to follow. They trickled after him, leaving the lounge to Cor. He could have gone down to his own rooms, but he wasn't going to do much sleeping tonight. He didn't even bother to take off his shoes or lower the lights. Reina would be back and hell if he was going to let her wander off on her own.

Sure enough, she reappeared less than an hour later.

How many outfits did she go through in one day? This must have been the fourth, at least. Admittedly he hadn't seen her before noon, so there could have been others. Either way, she had already gone through more clothes in one day than Cor went through in a week.

He stood when she came in, drawing her attention.

"I might have guessed you wouldn't be asleep," she said—half resigned, half fond.

It could have been a compliment. It could also have been an insult. Strange how so many of the things she said now were that way.

Reina sighed. "Very well. Come if you're going to come. We have work to do."

He followed her into the lift and they descended to the lower levels in silence. They might have continued that way indefinitely if they hadn't walked into the altercation at the bottom. Cor could hear the voices before the doors opened.

"No one is allowed admittance to the royal family's quarters without express permission." That was the Crownsguard set to guard the elevator.

"Well then  _get permission_." And that was the imperial high commander.

The doors opened to the back of a Crownsguard and the front of the imperial high commander—livid, though he usually was. Behind Ravus was Lunafreya.

"Stand down, Sergeant." Cor stepped out of the elevator first; his Crownsguard spun around and stepped to the side so quickly he nearly landed on his face. Cor pretended not to notice. "What's going on?"

Ravus didn't even look at him. His eyes were locked past Cor's right arm—where Reina stood.

"My  _sister_  is insisting on seeing her betrothed. I consented to escort her here and have encountered your guard dog. Am I to understand this is not permissible?" He certainly didn't sound as if he had enjoyed dancing with Reina earlier that night.

Then again, everyone in the Citadel was lying through their teeth right now. Why not the commander? The only question was: which was the lie?

"I apologize for the difficulty, Commander, Lady Lunafreya. She may, of course, see Noctis." Reina stepped aside and motioned to the still-open lift.

She couldn't honestly be considering letting the imperial commander upstairs. Not when her brother had only his few friends and her father had no guard at all.

Lunafreya and her brother both stepped forward. Reina stopped the latter with a raised hand.

"I grant admission  _only_ to Lady Lunafreya," she said.

The commander snarled at her. "I will not send her up there on her own."

"Then you will not send her at all."

They stared at each other for a tense moment, Reina impassive, Ravus seething. Cor was only standing a few feet away, but he took a step forward, anyway.

"I do not need an escort, Ravus," Lunafreya said.

The commander continued to stare at Reina for what must have been a full minute. But just when Cor was preparing to reach for his blade and help the imperial commander find his way back downstairs, Ravus stood down.

"Fine. Then I charge  _you_ with her safety," he said.

"But of course," said Reina. "She will be safe upstairs."

He stared at her for another moment before turning abruptly and walking away without another word.

"I apologize for my brother, Your Highness," Lunafreya said once Reina had turned back to her. "But may I say how lovely it is to see you again—we did not have the opportunity to speak at dinner."

"Some other time," Reina said curtly as she leaned in to activate the lift once more. "Follow the hall to the right. Noctis' room is the second door; there are three guest rooms farther down, past the double doors in the back.  _Don't_ disturb Father."

Lunafreya only hesitated an instant with surprise on her features, but it was stark in contrast to her usual stoicism. "Of course."

"Cor." Reina turned without waiting to see if he would follow.

She led the way down the hall and they took a second elevator to the king's study.

"Why would Niflheim consent to sending their princess to us on her whim?" Cor asked as they walked. "I admit, the concept of political marriage is beyond me, but tensions are high and both sides are holding their assets close."

Reina only glanced at him without answering his question. What had he really been expecting? She hadn't been answering any questions since she returned. It wasn't his place, anyway.

She took him to Regis' office and closed the door behind them. And then, against his expectations, she did answer.

"Niflheim didn't, nor was it a whim. But they did mean to use her as bait. I suspect that, in their general's absence, they turned to the commander to smuggle her out of the city. It matters very little; they never intended to do anything with her save draw our forces away from the city. But I suppose Noctis will be pleased to have her here, instead."

There was a lot of information and very little of it made any sense. But most perplexing of all:

"Why would the commander bring her to us?"

"Because he values her safety." Reina raised her eyebrows in an expression that implied she meant more than she was saying. "And because Niflheim isn't the only one who can draw a double-edged blade."

The dance at dinner tonight—had that really all been Reina's way of recruiting Niflheim's officers to her side? And, if so, did that mean the chancellor had also turned? He felt a surge of respect for Reina. True, she kept her cards close to her chest and took no counsel but her own, but she saw a picture bigger than any of them could even imagine. Perhaps she had been a princess a few days ago; today she was the queen Regis had always said she would be.

" _Marshal, do you copy?"_ His radio crackled to life. " _We're bringing in the civilians from the rebel group we raided tonight."_

In the massive clusterfuck that was today, he had all but forgotten Clarus' instructions regarding the raids—presumably handed down from Reina. At least those orders had gone out before they had slipped his mind.

He reached for the radio. "I copy. Have them locked in—they can rot until the rest of this mess is through."

" _One of them is claiming to be a Kingsglaive, Marshal."_

The wasn't exactly a shining reputation to bargain with, given recent events. He glanced at Reina. "Are you expecting a Glaive in with the rebels?"

"Yes, Libertus Ostium. He's not one of the traitors; just a man in an unfortunate position making stupid decisions."

"What do you want done with him?" Cor asked.

"Have him brought back to the Kingsglaive headquarters." Reina crossed her arms over her chest. "Captain Ulric will deal with him—likely he'll wake up when he learns his new friends have been taking bribes from Niflheim."

"His old ones, as well," Cor said. "Monica, have the Glaive transferred to the custody of his captain."

" _Affirmative, Marshal."_

Cor turned back to Reina as she leaned over her father's desk and sifted through papers. "What next?"

"We need to rearrange the Crownsguard and the Kingsglaive for tomorrow." She didn't look up, but she did seem to find what she was looking for—a folder packed so full of papers that the elastic hardly fit around it anymore. "The imperials intended to strike during the signing ceremony while the Kingsglaive were distracted recovering Lunafreya and the vast majority of the Crownsguard were dealing with the rebel traitors setting off explosives in the Citadel square. I can only guess what they will do, knowing that their general has been found and incapacitated."

"So what do you propose?"

"I want every Crownsguard that can be spared stationed here in the Citadel—as quietly as possible. The guard outside the crystal chamber will need to be bolstered—doubled, at least, but if we have more to spare then I would put them there. We will have to run the numbers. The guard in the treaty room will also have to be doubled." She flipped through the papers in the folder and found the pages that detailed duty rosters for guards and Kingsglaives inside the Citadel. She set those out on the desk and began to pace the length of wall along the back of the room.

"And the Glaive?"

"With the crystal. There are two things Niflheim wants; the crystal and the ring. The latter will do them no good at all, but if they get the crystal then Insomnia falls."

"They would have to kill your father to take the ring," Cor said. Not because he wanted to remind her that she had already lived through that, but because she needed to consider the risk associated with the ring, even if it gained the empire nothing.

Reina stopped pacing.

"Yes..." She said slowly. "Unless he didn't have it."

"If he removes that ring, the Wall falls."

"Yes."

It was impossible to guess what she was thinking. Cor wasn't sure he wanted to know.


	25. Regis, Waking Alone

He should have known when she bid him good night that she never meant to sleep. But he had told her he trusted her without question. So he had allowed himself to believe the falsity. When he had fallen asleep, she was still in his room—ostensibly asleep as well.

Evidently not.

Regis woke some hours later. The clock on the far wall—when his eyes finally consented to focus through the dark—read just past three in the morning. Reina was gone.

Though he knew he would not find her in her own bed, he slipped across the hall to check her room. His cane sounded a sharp contrast to bare feet and a sharp pain in his right knee accompanied each step without his knee brace. He ought not have been walking without, but he could think of worse things than pain.

Her room was untouched, her bed unslept in, and her phone was sitting face down on the nightstand. It was difficult to believe she hadn't left it on purpose. Short of calling the Crownsguard down on his own daughter, he could do little save wait for her to return.

The wait was not as long as he feared. Part was consumed by the infuriating task of fitting on his knee brace without an extra pair of hands. Part of it was spent remembering—for the twenty-seventh time that week—why he no longer paced when he was restless.

By the time the lift doors opened he was sitting in an armchair, fully dressed and waiting. Once the relief at seeing her safe and whole faded, every ounce of annoyance and frustration it had been holding back came flooding in.

She had taken Cor with her. Small blessings. But Cor should have had the good sense to tell her to stay put—if nothing else, he might have informed Regis where they had gone. He would deal with Cor later.

"Father." Reina's eyes landed on him nearly as soon as she stepped from the lift. It was difficult to say whether or not she was surprised to find him awake. She was not, however, contrite. "You were meant to be sleeping."

"As were you," Regis said.

"I don't really sleep anymore," she said.

Regis made a sound of frustration, hauling himself to his feet. "You have only been gone for  _two days!_ "

Admittedly, the past few weeks in the Citadel had been challenging for everyone. But she had been sleeping before she left Insomnia. He knew. Their last night together, he had lain awake until she had fallen asleep beside him. At the time, the draw of sleep had seemed insignificant compared with the last hours he would ever spend in his daughter's company.

She considered him in silence. Behind Cor—who was applying his perfected art of fading into the decor—the lift doors closed once more.

"The last time I saw you alive was ten years ago," she whispered. Even in the dead silent, Regis wasn't sure he had heard her correctly.

Ten  _years?_ She experienced hours in her Dreams when only minutes had passed but anything more than that was unprecedented. He was always at her side moments after the Dream began, easing her into wakefulness. Except—

Except yesterday.

How long had they let it stretch before they called him? That had been after dawn. But her Dreams usually began in the middle of the night.

Ten years.

Ten years she had been trapped in a bleak future because Regis had sent her away from his side.

No wonder she was different. When he looked at her and struggled to see his little girl beneath the cold and steel, it was because she was thirty and a third of her life had never happened.

"Reina—"

"I know you're afraid, Father." She took a step forward, then another and another until she stood before him. "If it helps to be angry with me, then that's alright."

It didn't. It didn't help to know she had lived through a ten-year long nightmare because he hadn't let her stay no matter how she begged him. It didn't help to watch his daughter—who had never in her life disobeyed him or stood against him—casually disregard his instructions.

If it had been Noctis—well. At least he expected Noctis to be difficult.

Regis pulled her into a hug with a sound of regret.

"I can't explain ten years of history in the time we have." Reina held onto his suit, her voice muffled against his chest. "I wouldn't even know where to begin. But I swear—when all this is over, if we make it through—I will try anyway."

That was, so far as he could see, the best they could do. He could not turn back time. He could not erase those memories from her mind. He could not protect her anymore. All he could do was try to understand.

"At least refrain from lying to me," Regis said.

Reina stepped back. "You wouldn't have stayed if you knew I wasn't going to."

Regis opened his mouth to respond, but stopped himself. She was correct, of course. She smiled at that.

"I need your help, Father." She glanced back at Cor, who had fallen into studying the far wall with great interest. The best bodyguard could be trusted to be discreet with personal information because he was too embarrassed to admit he had overheard it at all.

"Of course, my dear."

"You aren't going to like it."

The same could have been said about all of this.

"I need you to give me the ring," she said.

He was too shocked to refuse, for a moment. How could she ask that of him? Even if he had wanted to, he could not have passed it to her without great risk to Insomnia.

"Absolutely not," he said once he had recovered himself.

"The imperials want it; they will come after you if you keep it."

"Better that they pursue you, instead?"

"Yes," Reina said, as if this were the clearest thing in the world.

Regis jammed the point of his cane against the ground, feeling the ache in his knee keenly. "You have sworn to me that you will not sell your life for mine."

"Father, listen to me: you don't have the strength to wield the ring. If they wish to take it from you it will only be too easy."

"I am not impotent, yet," Regis said.

Reina ignored him. "But I can maintain the Wall and still use the ring's full power. The only way they will take it from me is if I hand it to them myself. If we do the switch now, the imperials will be none the wiser. I will attune to the Wall and crystal and we can manage with barely a flicker."

Still, Regis shook his head. "This is too dangerous, Reina."

"It is too dangerous not to, Father. If they take the ring from you—whether they kill you in the process or not—the Wall will fall for good. And if the Wall falls, Insomnia falls. I can protect the ring and myself. I can do this."

The look on her face—fierce and entreating—begged him to trust her _._

Regis shut his eyes. He hated that she was right. He hated that he could not even protect his people without placing them in greater danger. He hated passing this burden to his daughter when he had already vowed to end this war—one way or the other—before the ring passed to Noctis. His children should never have borne this weight.

"Very well," Regis said. "Let us go quickly."


	26. Cor, in Action

Cor kept on Reina's heels as she lead the way toward the heart of the Citadel, where the crystal lay. Regis had given him a look torn between gratitude and annoyance when he had passed. The first because Cor had stayed with Reina. The second because Reina hadn't stayed.

The halls were, at first glance, deserted. But Cor knew where to look for the darkly uniformed figures in unlit alcoves. He nodded as he passed by each of his Crownsguards, all of them precisely where they were meant to be.

He trailed behind Reina and Regis as they made their way through the Citadel to the innermost chamber. The door was openly guarded with a dozen Crownsguards flanking it: more than thrice the number usually stationed here. The guards stepped aside at first glimpse of the king and princess approaching.

"Have you a plan?" Regis asked Reina as two of the Crownsguards pulled the doors open for them.

"I have a theory," Reina said. "It goes without saying that no one has the experience to say whether or not it will work."

Cor followed them inside. The crystal was housed in a massive circular room outlined in stone arches; above, the center of the domed ceiling had been cut away to allow the magic to escape—which it did: a great violet beam of power shooting from the center of the Citadel and generating the Wall that covered the entire city. Dead center of the room was the crystal, surrounded by a hexagonal prism of mirrors. Something about the mirrors was supposed to concentrate the crystal's magic, but Cor couldn't remember anything beyond that vague notion. The intricacies of Caelum magic were not exactly highest on his priority list right now. Or ever.

"Very well. Let us hear your theory." Regis stopped just inside the doors as they clanged shut.

Cor followed, but kept toward the outskirts of the room, putting his shoulder against a stone column. He wasn't going to stand in the middle of whatever the hell they were about to do.

"You will have to dismantle the Wall before you remove the ring." Reina walked past him, into the glow of the crystal and all the way up to the mirrors. "Then you will pass it to me, I will have a heart-to-heart with the kings of yore—which should take no more than a few seconds in the physical world—and finally reactivate the Wall. Hopefully with very little delay between the two."

"It shall take a great deal more energy to dismantle and reactivate the Wall. Better that I should hold onto it for as long as possible without the ring," Regis said.

"No. The strain of trying to channel so much power without the ring in between would kill you." Reina turned her back on the crystal and fixed her intense gaze on Regis instead.

"You cannot know that."

"And I don't intend to find out," she said.

Regis' lips twisted in displeasure, but eventually he seemed to accept the logic behind her words. He stepped forward. "Am I to understand you have wielded the ring in your Dream?"

"Yes."

"Then you understand the price you must pay in return—but I suspect you did  _not_ reactivate the Wall at any time?" Regis drew level with her and looked up at the glass ceiling.

"No, never," Reina said.

He shifted his gaze to her abruptly. "Words cannot aptly describe the sensation of constant strain. Though I hope this will be a highly temporary solution to our problems and that you will never have to experience firsthand what it will do to you, I must caution you: do not underestimate the weight of the Wall. You may well not be capable of the feats you have come to expect from the ring."

"Thank you, Father," she said. "I will keep that in mind."

"You still wish to proceed?"

"Yes. I still believe this is the best course for us."

"Very well."

Regis turned to the crystal and, though regret flashed momentarily across his features, he lifted his hand and shut his eyes. Cor had no notion of what to expect. The Wall had been erect for his entire life and enclosing the Crown City for more than half of it.

Reina glanced over her shoulder at Cor, motioning him closer. Against his better judgement, he went. She gave him no further instruction but to wait. So he waited.

At first nothing seemed to change. Regis stood, unmoving, his hand raised toward the crystal. Then the mirrors shifted, spreading apart and opening to show the man-sized geode inside. It glowed with an unearthly light. The beam that rose up and shot through the ceiling pulsed and dimmed; Cor lifted his eyes to follow the line as far as he could see. The top of the light receded—lowering steadily toward the base.

It lit the whole room—so bright Cor had to lift his hand to shield his eyes from the shining walls, and that was to say nothing about the blinding light from the crystal itself. Even when it faded, Cor was left blinking through the spots on his vision.

He heard the clatter of Regis' cane on the floor and stepped forward before he could see anything at all. His hands connected with a cape-clad back and Regis fell against him instead of forward. Cor braced him. They both remained upright long enough for Cor to get one of Regis' arms around his shoulders. By that time, Cor could see again.

"Quickly, my dear." Regis leaned on Cor's shoulder, but extended his hand to Reina.

She reached out and slipped the ring from his finger and onto hers without pause.

Cor had been prepared for something to happen when the Wall came down. He had not been expecting anything to happen when she put the ring on. Fool.

Blue light burst from Reina in a tangible wave. But it wasn't just light—it was pressure like the shockwave that followed an explosion, and it set Cor and Regis both off-balance. Cor took a step back and braced his feet; Regis stumbled after him. In front of them, Reina—face contorted in pain—stood half doubled-over and clutching her hand.

The whole royal family was meant to have control of the ring naturally, weren't they? Was it supposed to hurt when they first put it on?

Cor never got the chance to ask.

On the other side of the crystal, black mist swirled in a miniature imitation of a brewing storm. The gleaming stone floor seemed to blacken beneath it—so dark it looked as if the earth had been eaten away into a hole.

And then a hand emerged. Long, sinewy, and ending in talon-like claws.

Daemons.

Daemons in Insomnia for the first time in centuries. And Cor was standing there with one arm taken up by Regis and his mobility reduced to zero.

"Release me," Regis ordered.

"Can you stand on your own?"

"Doubtful. Do it anyway."

With one sideways glance, Cor ducked out from under his arm and reached, with borrowed magic, into the abyss between worlds to draw his blade. Regis stumbled, taking a shaking step before his leg gave out on him and brought him to one knee.

Cor kicked his cane toward him and advanced on the daemon, which had clawed its way out of the darkness, by now—a hulking beast, three feet taller than Cor with arms nearly long enough to brush the floor, like some sick imitation of a human and an orangutan. With a chilling screech it lifted a hand full of three-inch claws and brought them slicing down. Cor parried. The claws slid harmlessly off his blade before he brought it back around to cut into the daemon's emaciated torso.

No blood came out. But that same inky blackness—whatever it was—oozed from the cut that Cor's katana left.

Thunder cracked behind him—too loud in the small room.

"Regis—!" Cor brought his blade up to stop both clawed hands as they shot toward him, and chanced a glance over his shoulder.

Regis had his cane in hand, but he was still on one knee. His right hand, outstretched, crackled with energy. A few feet away, a second daemon smoldered.

That was the end of Cor's spare time. He turned back to his opponent, shoving it off the edge of his blade before it could lunge in for a taste of human flesh. His sword left deep gashes in both hands and the same blackness dripped from them as the daemon screeched. He brought his sword up and across, carving across the daemon's chest and then—

The daemon reeled back, as if struck by something other than Cor's katana. It convulsed, held in place, as an orb of red light burst from its chest. The light leaped away to somewhere behind Cor and the daemon crumpled. Then sublimated into black mist.

What the hell—?

He turned, blade still bare in his hands, to follow the path the red light had taken.

It led to Reina. She stood with her hand outstretched, the Ring of the Lucii on her finger, and a blue glow shimmering across her skin and eyes.

The daemons were gone.

For now.

"You must rebuild the Wall, Reina, before this devolves further." Regis struggled to his feet—Reina hauled him upright instead of following his instructions.

Once Regis was on his feet he shooed her away and she turned to Cor. "Cor, I need you to go to the guest wing. Find Ardyn and bring him to me. As fast as you can."

The chancellor? Then Cor had been right to assume she had made some sort of deal with Izunia during dinner. Why else would she have danced with him and the commander, except to cause a stir?

"The imperial chancellor?" Regis' brow furrowed. "Absolutely not. I will not allow an imperial near the crystal."

He really should have stopped saying those words. Every time he did, she only overruled him. They might as well skip the whole argument and accept what she said from the start She wasn't going to back down.

"Of everything he is, the fact that he is the imperial chancellor should be the least of your worries, Father." Reina advanced toward the crystal. The glow had faded from her skin, but the ring was still alight. "And I need him. Cor—go. Tell him… tell him the princess needs a favor."

Cor didn't wait to be told again. He also didn't wait to be told 'no' by Regis; then he would have been obligated to obey the latter order, which would waste more time. It wasn't as if the outcome would change. Reina would have her way in the end.

He went.


	27. Noctis, Catching Up

Finally. Back in his room with his nice, soft bed. No more politics, no more Nifs, no more itchy suit. Weird, though. He'd usually choose any place but the Citadel to be.

Dinner with the Nifs was not his idea of a good time. But on top of that, Reina had been acting all sorts of weird—dancing with that creep with the burgundy hair and then Ravus. Blech. He needed a bath after watching that.

At least he had gotten to see Luna. She was everything he remembered and more. More beautiful. More regal. More composed. More graceful. She was basically a queen and he was some fuck-up pretending not to be a prince. No way he wasn't getting the better deal out of this arranged marriage.

If it was even happening anymore.

In all the chaos, he hadn't thought to ask anyone. He wouldn't have known who to ask. Everyone was busy pretending that they didn't know the imperials were trying to kill everyone, so probably the wedding was the last of their concerns.

Yeah. Not really the top of his list, either.

When they got back to Noctis' room, he fell face first into bed without taking his boots off. It was past midnight. Rei had started screaming last night while it was still dark and Noct hadn't slept since then. Had he ever gone so long without a nap? Probably not. Gladio and Prompto were talking about something. He was too tired to pay attention to what. Specs was still looking tense as fuck. Maybe he would find his chill while Noct took a nap.

The next thing he remembered was someone knocking on the bedroom door.

Noctis jerked upright. His neck hurt from sleeping with his head bent off to the side, but whatever. The room was dark—couldn't even tell what time it was. Ignis was sitting in a chair in the corner with his jacket across his shoulders like a blanket, Prompto was wedged in the window seat with one leg hanging off the side and his head lolling, and Gladio was sleeping on the floor with his shirt balled up under his head like a blanket.

Geeze. Didn't they know there were spare rooms down the hall? Couldn't spare thirty seconds to get a real pillow?

The knock came again, just as soft as before. Which was weird, given that Noctis had woken up but no one else had. Usually it was Specs who slept light.

He slid off the bed. If it was Reina coming to tell him they had more shit to do at whatever the hell time this was, he was slamming the door in her face. He wrenched the door open.

It wasn't Reina.

"Luna." Noct blinked at her, dumbfounded for a moment. "Wha—how did you get up here?"

No way she could fly along with all those other Oracle super powers she had.

Luna glanced into the room, taking in his three sleeping friends stretched or crunched in various states of sleep, and smiled like she wanted to laugh. She took a step back from the door and watched him expectantly.

Yeah. Probably better not to wake them up.

Noct stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind him as quietly as he was able and putting his back to it.

"Reina was kind enough to let me up," she said, once they were alone.

"Oh." Noctis said, because he couldn't think of anything else to say. Technically, it answered his question. But it turned out what he really wanted to know was 'why?' and he wasn't sure how to ask without sounding like he didn't want her there.

Instead he said: "Do you… want to go sit down? There are empty rooms…" he pointed vaguely down the hall.

"I would like that." Luna smiled. She had a great smile.

So he led the way down the hall to the first guest room and let her in. The servants always kept the spare rooms ready, even though no one ever slept in them. It had made them good places to hide when he and Reina were trying not to be found, though.

Noctis hit the lights—the spare rooms were all pretty much identical; big enough to swing a sword or two, furnished with a bed, an armoire, a writing desk, two armchairs and a coffee table, and a fireplace. And blissfully empty of obligations. Or sleeping, shirtless guys with way more muscles than him. So many benefits in such a small room.

"So…" Noctis dropped into one of the armchairs. "What are you doing up here—?"

Shit. Wasn't he not going to ask that?

"I mean—why did Rei let you up?"

That was worse, actually.

"Sorry."

Gods  _damn_ —

But Luna was smiling anyway. She sat in the armchair across from him, hands folded in her lap. "Ravus brought me here without specifying why."

"That's… weird."

Her smile faded. "Noctis, I cannot believe that Niflheim has come for peace. Something is not right."

"Oh. Yeah, we know that," Noctis said before he could stop himself. Was Luna supposed to know? It was fine if she knew, right? Rei hadn't said  _not_ to tell her. And Noct couldn't think of any reasons why she shouldn't know. It wasn't like she was going to tell the empire.

She was looking at him weird.

Too late to turn back now. "Rei Dreamed it. Dad was sending us to Altissia—I guess we were supposed to meet you there for the wedding—but Rei dragged us all back this morning. Said that the empire was going to kill Dad and take over Insomnia if we didn't get back."

Her eyes widened. "I admit I was skeptical about this peace, but the idea that they would kill your father after entering the city on these pretenses—"

"Yeah," Noct said. "Well. I'm not surprised. The Nifs are snakes. Good thing Rei brought us in time; we'll send them back where they belong."

"Noctis." Luna sat forward in her chair, looking so suddenly upset that Noctis lost track of his words. "There is something you should know about your sister."

"What?" The feeling of misgiving grew.

"You know that the Oracle speaks to the Gods on behalf of mortals and that Gentiana speaks to mortals on behalf of the Gods."

Noctis nodded.

"Gentiana has recently given me… distressing insights about Reina. I was reluctant to believe, but after watching her dance with Chancellor Izunia…" Luna looked at her hands.

Noct shifted in his chair. "What do you mean?"

"The Caelums were chosen by the Gods to protect the crystal so that, when the time came, the Chosen King might fulfill the prophecy and repel the darkness forever. But there are those—thralls of the darkness—who would see the crystal destroyed and the Gods removed permanently from the face of Eos. The man you know as the Imperial Chancellor is one and—if Gentiana is to be believed—Reina is another."

"No way." Noct shook his head immediately, sitting upright. "She's not like that."

"Noctis, I know it is difficult to see past the sister you love to what lies beneath, but  _please_ , you must try. Can you see nothing of the darkness in her?" Luna leaned forward when he leaned back.

Begging him to try thinking of his sister as evil.

"No way," Noct repeated.

Except—

She had been strange ever since she had woken up from that Dream. Not really like Rei at all. She was more intense and focused—more self-assured. She had said 'no' to Dad. And Noct had wondered 'who are you and what have you done with my twin?' because Reina would never refuse to do what Dad said.

Never.

Luna seemed to read his mind. She nodded. "You see?"

Still, Noct shook his head. "She just had a really shitty nightmare. No way you wake up from a ten year nightmare and come out the same person."

"That may well be the reason," Luna said. "But the result is the same. Given the chance, Reina will stand against the Gods and not with them. She will destroy the crystal, if she can."

"I'm sorry, Luna—I just can't believe she would ever do that." Noct rose to his feet. He would just go ask her himself, and that would put an end to it.

"Noctis—" Luna was on her feet as well "—I know it to be true that Chancellor Izunia  _is_ the source of the darkness. I do not believe that she danced with him tonight by chance."

"Oh yeah? Well what about Ravus?"

"My brother is… often misguided in his choice of companions. He tries to do his best and sometimes only makes matters worse." She clasped her hands in front of her and looked down at them.

Noct's brain was still shouting protests. Most of them were senseless denial, but damn it, this was  _Luna_.

And that was  _Reina_.

How the hell was he supposed to trust just one of them?

"Even if she was working with this guy he's probably just tricked her or something. So there's gotta be a way to fix it." She was probably fine. But it didn't hurt to think about the possibility, right?

"If the prophecy is fulfilled, all in thrall to the darkness shall know peace."

He didn't like the way she said peace without quite answering his question.


	28. Ignis, Awake at Night

Someone ought to have remained awake—at least one of them should have been standing watch in case the imperials made mischief in the night. Insomnia was not as safe as it had been a few days ago and he had a responsibility to the prince. Yet, in spite of his best intentions, no sooner had he sat down than his eyes were shut and all plans and good intentions drained away in the face of an exceedingly long day.

He didn't wake to the quiet tap at the door, nor to Noctis climbing out of bed to see who it was. He didn't wake to their brief, whispered conversation, nor to the door shutting behind them. When he did wake, it was with that disorienting loss of time that comes from rising in the middle of the night with no clear sense of what hour it was or how long he had been asleep. And, before he could even curse himself for his lapse of self-control, his eyes landed on Noctis' empty bed.

He sat upright, dislodging his coat, which fell to the floor. Prompto was asleep in the window seat. Gladio, also asleep, lay on the floor a few feet away. But Noctis was nowhere to be seen.

"Gladio. Prompto." Ignis rose stiffly to his feet, scooping up his jacket and shaking it out. " _Wake up._ "

Gladio stirred, rolling onto his black and blinking blearily up at Ignis. "Whassup?"

"Noctis is gone."

Something else was wrong, as well. A general sensation of impending doom brewed in the pit of his stomach. The night was too dark.

And then he saw it. Or didn't see it, as the case was.

"And the Wall is gone."

Prompto fell out of the window seat. "It's  _what?_ "

Gladio scrambled to his feet and ran to the window. Overhead, the sky was pitch black—like some great yawning chasm opening above with nothing between Insomnia and the night. The Wall had been in place for Ignis' entire life and he had never set foot outside the Crown City before two days ago. Perhaps it was commonplace for the Outlanders to look up at night and see the sky, but the shimmering barrier had always stood between Ignis and that infinite dark outside.

"Holy hell," Gladio whispered.

"Let's go," Ignis tossed his coat onto Noct's bed and turned toward the door. "We need to find Noct."

The halls were unlit but less still than they ought to have been. Once his eyes adjusted to the scant city light filtering in through the windows, he could see the black mist that swirled in places—forming columns of air that was too black for night.

"The hell is that?" Gladio asked.

"I don't know." And he wasn't sure he wanted to. But he drew his weapons all the same—a practiced motion, come natural in time, to reach outside of the physical realm and grasp his daggers. "But I suspect it has something to do with the reason why Outlanders don't venture beyond the lights at night. Be on your guard."

"Right." Blue light flashed before Gladio and his sword appeared in his hand. Behind him, a beat later, Prompto drew his gun.

"Noctis?!" Ignis shouted down the deserted hall.

"Where would he go?" Prompto asked.

Ignis glanced at Gladio, but neither of them said what they were thinking: 'where would he  _be taken?_ '

"Let's search up here, first. C'mon." Gladio took point down the hall in the direction of the king and princess' rooms.

Ignis fell into step behind him. Whenever possible, they gave the swirling black mist a wide berth. None of them were eager to discover what it was. But that came on its own, regardless of their intent or hope.

The third foggy column they passed was darker than the others—somehow so dense that it seemed to blacken the black marble tile beneath it until it mirrored the colorless sky overhead and Ignis felt certain he could have plunged his hand straight through the ground.

Something else reached out, first.

"Wh—what is  _that?_ " Prompto leapt back as small fingers grasped the edge of the black pool and a creature pulled itself out of the solid ground.

It was smaller than a man, but vaguely humanoid—like a sick artist had taken a child and twisted it beyond recognition. Its ears were elongated and pointed—more horn than appendage—and its sunken face was taken up predominantly by eyes too big for its skull and red all the way through, with neither white nor iris nor pupil. The tattered remains of what might once have been a dress hung from a body so emaciated it was little more than a skeleton with grey, lifeless skin stretched over the top.

"Daemon." Ignis took an automatic step backward.

Daemons. Daemons in  _Insomnia_ , when the Crown City had been safe from them for hundreds of years.

It screeched—a bone-chilling sound, which echoed off the walls, but not so eerie as the responding calls from farther down the hall.

They were not alone anymore.

"Time to move!" Gladio brought his massive blade crashing down over the head of the daemon.

It skittered out of the way, faster than any living thing had any right being, and his sword struck the tile instead, sending chips of marble flying. Ignis closed in on its other side and struck out with one blade, then the other. The first one cut across the daemon's bony chest and sliced the ragged dress nearly in two. Only blackness came out of the wound. Black where blood should have been.

Prompto's gunshot reverberated off the walls, leaving Ignis deaf with ringing ears. But the bullet found its mark. The daemon staggered, then fell forward. No sooner had it struck the ground than it began to sublimate, as if burned from the inside out until nothing but that black fog remained.

Was it even gone? If the daemon became mist and the mist spawned more daemons, could they ever kill one?

No time to wonder. Ahead and from around the corner came the sound of a door crashing open.

"Noct?!" Ignis trotted forward, Gladio and Prompto half a step behind him.

"Specs! What the hell is going on?!"

Thank the  _Gods_.

Ignis turned the corner and found himself face to face with another of the daemons—this one taller, but no less unsettling. He jerked back and lashed out with his knives. They caught the thing one after another, plunging into flesh and cutting through bone and sinew. Around it, he caught sight of Noctis standing in front of the open door to one of the guest chambers—he held his sword in one hand and Princess Lunafreya's hand in the other. A story needed telling, but none of them had time to listen.

Ignis twisted both daggers and pulled them out of the daemon, ducking as it swiped at him. Above his head, Gladio's sword slammed into the wall. This time, the chips of the wall were accompanied by a spatter of black ichor.

Ignis straightened as the second daemon sublimated back into mist.

"Much obliged," he said.

"No problem," said Gladio. "Noct—you alright?"

"Yeah, fine. Where are Rei and Dad?"

"We passed His Majesty's door and saw no signs of life. Her Highness' likewise."

"Eh." Noct moved down the hall toward them, Lunafreya in tow. "She never sleeps in there. We've gotta find my dad."

"Noctis." Ignis caught him by the arm as they passed. "The Wall is gone."

When understanding set into Noctis' face, so too did fear. It seemed unlikely that His Majesty would willingly let the Wall fall. Either something had happened to him, or…

"We've gotta find him," Noct repeated.

He yanked his arm free and brushed past them. Ignis caught Gladio's gaze and gave him a nod. If they could not find His Majesty, they had one job: protect Noctis with their lives. Right now, that meant getting him out of Insomnia. The Wall hadn't come down all by itself. It couldn't have been coincidence that this happened while the imperials were in the city.


	29. Regis, Rebuilding the Wall

Every time Regis thought he had experienced the worst the past few days had to offer, the Gods proved him wrong.

Pushing Reina out of the city as she begged to stay had been one of the hardest things he had ever done. Everything since then had been out of his hands, but that didn't make it easier. He hated watching her come home as a different woman than she had been two days before. He hated feeling useless as he followed in her wake, stumbling around and trying to grasp the reality of the situation—he still had only half an idea of what was happening.

For a little while he thought it couldn't possibly get worse than knowing his little girl had been trapped in a ten-year-long nightmare, which was entirely his fault. But then he had to pass on to her—on top of everything else—a burden he had spent twenty years trying to spare them from. He had to watch, helpless, as she put on the ring and felt the molten fire of the Lucii coursing through her.

Everything else paled in the face of her pain. He would have given anything to have spared her suffering, but he had nothing left to give. His body ached, a constant reminder that he wasn't as young as he had once been; he was too old to be running around the Citadel at all hours of the night. Too old. Older than he should have been at fifty; that was the price he paid for the safety of his people.

Now Reina paid it in his stead. And in its absence, Regis felt exhausted. Drained. Somehow, the necessity of carrying that weight had given him the strength to bear it. It had to come from somewhere, so he had found somewhere to pull it from. Now he was a deflated balloon—all stretched out and worn but empty and devoid of purpose.

And Insomnia was full of daemons.

Daemons. He should have known that would happen. They were all so focused on the imperials that none of them had given any thought to the other reason why the Wall was in place.

Four years it had been since he faced combat. He scrambled to remember how to throw lightning, scraping the bottom of his energy reserves and forcing the magic into elemancy. It was a clumsy, stumbling attempt; the first bolt struck wide and left a scorch mark on the wall of the crystal chamber. He gathered up a second handful and thrust that out, too. This one hit its mark but the daemon stood, still. He was better than this, damn it! When had he turned into a fumbling old man? When had he traded strength and skill for the ineptitude of an invalid? Perhaps it would come back, now that the Wall was off his shoulders.

Perhaps it wouldn't.

Just as she had four years before—the last time Regis had faced death and stumbled—Reina saved him.

He managed to get his legs beneath him but they quivered, threatening to give out for the second time in as many minutes. He clutched at his cane—that accursed crutch—and Reina came to steady him. She was alright. She was whole. She had weathered the Lucii's judgement and mastered the ring. Though he wanted little more than to embrace her and kiss her hair and assure both of them that she would live, he pushed her away. The Wall. The Wall needed to be rebuilt if they were ever going to hold back the daemons.

It was hard to be reminded how little he understood when she called for the Imperial Chancellor and hinted he was so much more than that. It was harder still to watch her walk toward the crystal with the ring on her hand. A part of him wanted to stop her. Yes, it should have been only temporary—she only wished to protect the ring from the imperials—but all he could see was his little girl shackling herself to the same fate he had borne throughout his entire reign. Better that he stop her now and save her from that. The daemons they could kill until dawn. But Reina would never again have back the life that she fed to the crystal.

Because he knew—whatever she said—

She would never return the ring.

She had been begging to carry it for him since she was old enough to understand what it did—what it was doing to him. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how heavy she found that burden, she was never going to let him carry it again.

Ah, Reina! Didn't she understand there were worse things in life than the weight of his chains? Didn't she realize he would have given everything a hundred times over if it meant sparing her from this?

Of course she did. Fool old man. She understood what it felt like to watch the one she loved most suffering. That was why she wanted the damn ring in the first place.

Would that the Gods had never given it to their family.

It wasn't worth this.

Reina stretched out her hand toward the crystal and her skin lit violet in the light. She tangled her fingers in the heart of the geode and called forth more and more of that light until the whole room was ablaze with it, and still it wasn't enough to build the Wall. It built to blinding radiance, reflecting off the floor and walls until the only thing he could see was her—silhouetted against the heart of the star. And she cried out in pain as all that power coursed through her, swelling until there was nowhere left for it. And still it was not enough.

Nothing was worth this.

Regis stepped forward, though his knee protested every step and even with the help of his cane he limped and hobbled like a decrepit old man. Reina's screams bounced around the circular room until he couldn't tell where the sound ended and the echo began. He needed to end this. He needed to spare her this pain and fix something, even if he hadn't been able to fix anything else.

Yes, people would die. He had been willing to give his own life for theirs, to protect Lucis to his last breath, but he didn't have the strength to rebuild the Wall—not anymore. And though he was still willing to give his own life…

He wasn't willing to give his daughter's life. Not in one burst and not in the slow drag that would consume everything she was over the next thirty years.

The crystal had already demanded Noctis'. Would they strip him of both his children? Noctis' fate had eaten at Regis for fifteen years, but he had tried—he had  _tried_ , Gods damn it—to give his son the best life he could have.

And Reina…

He had believed she would have plenty of time to enjoy life. Later. It was always later with her. He would spend time with her later. He would attend her recital later. He would meet her friends later.

They were running out of laters. With what time he had left, he meant to make up for it

Regis tossed his cane aside and wrapped his arms around her. "Reina—"

She turned to look at him, face still tight with pain and one hand on the crystal. The magic was still building, still pouring through her. Once the process was started it dragged her along, a raging current, and all she could do was hold on.

"Swear to me you will not let the Wall take your life as it has taken mine." He kissed her hair, holding her fiercely against his chest. "Swear it."

"Father—" Her voice was tight—strangled with pain as she forced just a few words out. "I swear—I will not give my life to the Astrals—ah—nor Noctis' life."

Nor Noctis' life? Was it possible that her Dream had shown her the way out he had spent fifteen years searching for, to no avail?

"This is for Insomnia," Reina said through gritted teeth. "For Noctis—for Ignis—for Iris and Cor—"

She turned back toward the crystal and he felt her seize the power as it poured through her. "For Clarus—"

She gathered up the brimming well of magic within the room and spun it into a rope more rapidly—more deftly—than he could ever have done. She looked back up at him.

"For you—" And she thrust the magic out through the glass ceiling.

A beam of violet light burst from the crystal and lit the sky above. When he squinted past it, Regis could just see the Wall reforming, a thousand feet over their heads. Once the magic was free from the chamber, the light within dimmed to its natural level. Even that seemed dark now.

Reina sagged farther forward with each passing second, one hand still against the crystal. Regis tightened his hold on her. By the time the Wall connected with the outer foundations and Reina's hand slipped from the crystal, he was supporting her full weight.

Not, if he had thought about it, the best position to be in.

His knee quivered as it threatened to give out under the added weight, but still he held on. She remained limp in his arms as the seconds stretched on; with each one, they sank closer to the ground. He was going to have to choose between dropping onto his bad knee—because the brace would soften the impact, that knee was going first anyway, and at least he had some chance of getting back up again if the other knee was up—or his good knee because Gods damn, it hurt to kneel on the bad one.

He had just resolved to take the pain for the sake of practicality when Reina stirred.

"Father…" Her feet found more solid purchase on the ground, but she was still pulling against him.

"I have you, my dear." For a little longer, at least. He pressed his lips to her temple and tightened his hold on her. "I have you."

"Father—!"

She seemed to catch her bearings all at once; perhaps she had noticed he was holding her and not his cane. She put her feet down and straightened her knees so that he was only trying to hold himself up with a leg and a half—also not an ideal situation, but an improvement to the previous one. Then she tucked under his arm and braced him until he found his balance again.

"Thank you, my dear."

She managed to retrieve his cane. With that and her, he was about as stable as he was likely to be.

"Are you alright?" He looked earnestly at her, searching her face for the answer and brushing her hair back. "You carry the weight of the Wall…"

"Yes," she said, and it wasn't immediately evident whether she was responding to his question or his observation.

"How do you find it?"

She looked down at the ring on her hand—now quietly inert—then back up at him. "Heavy."

He smiled sadly and kissed her forehead. Just one more burden he had never meant to share with her.

"And you?" She asked. "How does it feel to be free of it at last?"

"Do you recall all those nights when you spent too many hours in training and arrived at dinner to find that even your spoon was too heavy to lift?"

A look of consternation crossed her face. "You weren't supposed to know I was spending so much time in training!"

She was much too bright to believe that he didn't always know precisely what she was up to—most especially when she wasn't forthcoming with the information. He gave her a look that said as much and continued without further comment.

"It feels much the same as that."

"Well then, you'll have  _exceptionally_ big muscles, tomorrow." And there, underneath all the fire and focus, he caught a glimpse of his little Reina.

It startled a laugh from him. "More likely I shall be exceptionally sore."

"In a few days then."

Regis smiled and reached out to smooth his hand over her hair. They were far from out of the dark. The Wall was back in place, but the damage had already been done—daemons ran amok in the streets of Insomnia and now they were trapped inside with everyone else. But if they didn't take this one second to breathe and remember who they were and what this was for, they would never make it through until dawn.


	30. Cor, Delivering the Chancellor

The crystal chamber wasn't the only place in the Citadel with daemons. Outside, the Crownsguards had their weapons at the ready and their backs to the wall.

"Marshal—"

"I know." Cor pushed past without stopping. "Stay here and guard the crystal. A solution is in the works." He hoped.

He rounded the curve without waiting to hear the scattered response, keeping his sword sheathed at his side and his hand on the hilt as he broke into a run. Along the way, he passed more columns of that same black mist. More than once he thought he heard the chittering of daemons echoing through the halls.

He pressed on, avoiding engagement.

Two Crownsguards stood on either side of the doorway leading to the guest wing; both held their weapons at the ready and jumped when he rounded the corner. When they recognized him, a look of relief crossed their faces.

"Hold your ground." His tone invited no questions. "Which is the chancellor's room?"

"Third on the right, Marshal, but—"

Cor brushed past them before they could ask what was going on.

Beyond, the hall was dimly lit with every other sconce alight. So far as he could see, no daemons were stirring.

Though no light showed under the chancellor's door, when Cor knocked, the door opened almost immediately to Ardyn Izunia—fully dressed as if he had been preparing to go out. At four in the morning. Nothing suspicious to see, here.

"Well, well, well." His eyes flicked over Cor as he held the door open. "If it isn't the princess' faithful lapdog. And right when the Crown City is dissolving into chaos. Or is it lion? Mm… 'lap-lion' doesn't have quite the same ring do it…"

The chancellor was nonsensical, even for a politician. He also had none of the urgency that every other person who had noticed the daemons felt.

"I have been sent to escort you to Her Highness," Cor said.

"Is that so?" His eyes widened, but the expression on his face was mockery, not surprise. "Well, I suppose I must  _leap_ when Her Highness calls."

"She said to tell you that she needs a favor." Cor folded his arms over his chest. If this didn't work, he was just going to hit him in the face and drag him to the crystal chamber. He didn't have time for this song and dance number. Maybe Reina could waltz with the imperials, but Cor didn't have the patience.

The chancellor's eyes narrowed. He scrutinized Cor, as if he doubted the words.

And then he smiled the most unpleasant smile Cor ever had the misfortune of witnessing.

"How very interesting." The chancellor reached behind the door and produced his hat, which he fit onto his head. "Lead on, lapcat."

Cor turned on his heel and made his way back down the hall without waiting to see if the chancellor would catch up. He did. Unfortunately.

"No," the chancellor said, "The nuance is all wrong. Cats are independent and aloof; they only curl on your lap when they want something from you, not vice versa."

Was he going to keep this up the whole way? It was going to be a very long walk.

He didn't. Or at least, he fell quiet and Cor fell back into thinking and grew accustomed to having a silent—if unwelcome—companion. Eerily, no daemons crossed their path as they followed the same hallways that Cor had run through minutes before. Where had they all gone?

And then he began again:

"Lapcub?"

And Cor realized he had only been thinking of more appropriate synonyms. Did he seriously not care that the city was full of daemons? Did he have nothing better to spend his mental energy on?

Cor resisted the urge to break the chancellor's nose. He kept walking. The faster they reached the crystal chamber, the faster Reina could deal with this clown in his stead.

Inevitably, Izunia discarded this possibility as well. "No—cub implies a certain level of naivete or inexperience, and you have neither of those, do you…?  _Immortal_."

He stared at Cor while he walked. He didn't seem to blink. Cor watched where he was walking. Eventually the chancellor stopped staring and walked on in silence. This time, Cor didn't fall into the trap of hoping he would remain that way and so, when he began to laugh—perhaps at some private joke—Cor was simply resigned.

"But you  _are_ aloof and independent,  _aren't you?_ " The chancellor's laugh was, if possible, more unpleasant than his smile. "My, but she must hold your leash tightly."

Fifteen minutes of inane monologue later, they reached the center of the Citadel. Their luck held; no daemons crossed their path. Cor didn't find out how incompetent the chancellor would be in a fight. He seemed the sort who would stand back and let someone else get their hands dirty. The Crownsguards were still standing outside the crystal chamber, no worse for the wear, though they looked askance at Cor's companion. Cor pushed the doors open and passed through the control room to the crystal chamber. The chancellor kept at his heel.

Inside, Reina and Regis were both standing before the crystal. The familiar glow—the violet beam of light that pulsed from the center of the Citadel—was back. The Wall was in place once more. But the damage had already been done; the daemons were inside.

"Princess! What a delight." Izunia spread his hands—to all appearances actually pleased to see her. "I've just been having the most titillating conversation with your lapcat."

Reina's eyes flicked toward Cor as he came to stand beside her, then back to the chancellor. "Thank you for coming, Ardyn. I need your help."

The pretense vanished and in its place was honest-to-Gods intrigue and dark glee. "Yes. So you have mentioned. What is it you ask of me?"

"I need your magic," she said.

His magic? Only the royal family or those they deemed worthy had magic of any sort. But if she was asking…

The look on Regis' face said he was just as caught off guard as Cor. And just as disturbed.

"You  _have_  my magic, little Dreamer." The chancellor's voice was all slime and oil. Just listening to him talk made Cor want to take a shower.

"No, I have Noctis'—a story for another time. I need  _yours_. You know what I speak of. There is only one you have that we don't."

The look of interest on his face stretched into delight. Anything that delighted a man like Ardyn Izunia boded ill for everyone else.

He laughed. "Am I to understand that you are asking me—" He leaned closer and dropped his voice to an over-dramatic whisper. "—for control of  _the Starscourge?_ "

Control of the Starscourge? Cor must have heard him wrong. Never mind that the whisper had been just as loud as his conversational tone; this discussion was getting more absurd by the second.

What the hell was going on?

"Yes," Reina said. "I want the link that will grant me hold on the daemons."

"And what… will you give me for it?" He leaned closer still, so he was practically nose-to-nose with her.

She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him even closer, so she could whisper in his ear. After a moment, Izunia pulled away and stared at her. Then he threw back his head and laughed.

"Oh, little Dreamer, you  _do_ know how to tempt a man." He held out his hand to her.

Cor's arm jerked involuntarily as he fought the urge to knock the hand away and prevent her from touching him. He won out over the impulse. Barely.

Reina put her hand in the chancellor's. Red strands of light and power leapt from him and tied their hands together, twisting up her arm and tangling inside her. Behind her, Regis took a step forward, then stopped abruptly. Reina hardly seemed to notice any of that. She was staring only at the chancellor, and him at her. Enraptured.


	31. Ignis, Searching for His Majesty

Each shadow they passed—even the commonplace ones—seemed to reach out for them. The trek to the king's chamber was too long. No light showed beneath His Majesty's door; when Noctis pounded, no response came. Not even the sound of motion.

"Dad? Rei?!" Noct pushed the door open.

Gladio grabbed his shoulder and yanked him backward, shooting him a warning look. "Don't go charging in first."

Before Noctis could object, Gladio pushed through the door and into the king's rooms. The rest of them followed after.

The wall opposite the entrance—all glass with floor-to-ceiling windows—let in enough city light to see by. Inside the heavy double doors was His Majesty's private lounge; a pair of wingback leather armchairs flanked a coffee table in front of a large stone fireplace. To the right, the wall was covered by bookshelves neatly filled with tomes, framed pictures, and trinkets: a clay plaque with two tiny hand prints on either side of one large one; a photograph of the royal family standing in front of the Citadel, framed in silver; a timeworn needlepoint of a black cat and a basket of flowers.

Gladio looked back at Noctis. The sitting room had two doors leading out—aside from the one to the hall—one on either side. Noctis jerked his head toward the right door. Gladio lead, followed by Ignis, then Noct and Lunafreya, with Prompto bringing up the rear.

They crept through the door to the right and found themselves in His Majesty's bedchamber. Again, the outside wall was made entirely of glass, giving a breath-taking view of the city outside and casting the room in the glow of city lights. This room was smaller than the lounge—half the size and containing a grandfather clock, an armoire, and two end tables on either side of a bed—slept in, but very much empty.

Again, Gladio looked to Noct. Noctis shook his head.

"Dad?!" He called. "Rei!?"

Only his echo responded.

"Noct." Ignis stepped forward. "It may be necessary to get out of Insomnia. If the imperials—"

"No way," Noctis said. "I'm not just  _leaving_ them. We can still help."

Ignis pursed his lips. They had no way of knowing where His Majesty and Reina were—nor in what state they would find them, even if they could.

"Don't be an idiot," Gladio said. "Look, I don't want to be the first one to say it, but we're all thinking it—"

"Don't," said Noct.

Gladio ignored him. "His Majesty is probably dead."

"Don't  _fucking say that!_ "

"The Wall is  _gone_ , Noct." Gladio gestured to the window. "He wouldn't just drop it."

"He might if he had to!" Noct was nearly ten inches shorter than Gladio, but he drew as close to face-to-face as he could.

"Oh yeah? Like for what?"

"I don't know! But I'm going to find out and you can come or not!"

"Noctis…" Luna didn't need to raise her voice to be heard; she spoke and they listened. "Your sister is absent, as well."

"Nuh uh. No way. No  _fucking way_ she did this," Noct said.

"I only mention the  _possibility_. I know that she is your sister, but her loyalties do not lie with us," Lunafreya said.

"Preposterous," Ignis said, before he could stop himself. "Where else would they lie?"

Reina? Reina, pull down the Wall and set daemons loose on Insomnia? Absurd. She was here to save the city, not destroy it. What on Eos was Luna thinking? What possessed her to make such an insinuation?

Lunafreya met his accusatory gaze levelly. "With the man whom she danced with tonight. With a man so twisted by hate that he has become the embodiment of all that is wrong in our world. Ardyn Izunia."

This was making less sense by the second. He couldn't even begin to process half of what she said—the embodiment of all that was wrong in the world?—but he knew Reina would never throw her lot in with an imperial.

Noct grabbed his arm before Ignis could mount an argument.

"Look, I know you're trying to help, but there's no way I can believe what you're saying," Noct said to Luna. "Definitely not without talking to Rei. So we're going to find her."

"Noct—Iggy—look!" Prompto pointed to the window.

Outside, they could see the other towers of the Citadel and the eerily dark center, where the Wall usually stemmed from. Except it wasn't dark anymore.

Light burst from the heart of the Citadel. Before their eyes, a violet beam shot toward the sky and split in a million directions. Ignis pushed forward toward the window. Overhead, light stretched and expanded, growing into interconnecting disks of magic, which formed the beginnings of a new barrier. A new Wall.

It wasn't something he had ever expected to witness. Indeed, it wasn't something he had ever wanted to witness, but now that they were here, it was breathtaking. The magic of the Wall shimmered like light diffracting through crystal. As he watched, it took over the entire sky and reached toward the edges of the city, covering up the too-dark night beneath a dome of magnificent color.

"See?! I told you; he's alive!" Noctis said. "Now let's go."

"King Regis would need to be near to the crystal to call such magic," Lunafreya said. "We should make our way there."

This time when Noctis led the way, no one objected.


	32. Noctis, Reuniting with Reina

He'd expected more daemons crawling around in the Citadel than this. Small blessings. Then again, his expectation was based on a sum total of zero prior experience with daemons. So there was that, too.

But, by whatever God was or wasn't looking out for them, they only crossed paths with a handful on their way down. Damn good thing, too. Noct didn't have time to waste on creepy crawlies. Something bad was going down in the Citadel and hell if he meant to find out what it was. If Dad or Rei was in danger—all the more reason to get there faster.

Luna's words needled him. No way Reina had pulled down the Wall to let the daemons in. No way. Luna was mistaken. She wasn't wrong on purpose. It was just a big misunderstanding or something. And Luna didn't know Rei like he did. Yeah, sure, she had been acting different since she had woken up from that Dream but seriously? She'd lived through the end of the world and was doing everything not to see it again. Noct could understand that, even if he couldn't relate to it.

The crystal chamber, when they finally reached it, was guarded by a bunch of Crownsguards. Way more than normal. But if there were Crownsguards outside, didn't that mean there weren't imperials inside?

Only one way to find out.

All the guards tripped over themselves to bow to him, stumbling over their "Your Highness"es and knocking helmets with each other. Didn't they have better things to worry about?

"I'm looking for my dad. Is he inside?" Noct asked.

"Yes, Your Highness," said the Crownsguard in the center-front—the marks on his uniform said he was in charge, but Noct couldn't have said what rank that meant. "Along with Princess Reina, Marshal Leonis, and…" He hesitated, eyes darting as if to look to his superior for guidance, before he remembered he was the superior. "Ah… one of the imperials."

So there was an imperial inside. Why were they all standing here, then?

Whatever.

Noctis brushed past the guards. He would just see for himself what was going on. They opened the doors for him, bowing again and not even complaining that he was bringing his whole retinue and Luna, when usually only Dad was allowed in there. Noct had been in once before. It was just as big as he remembered, just as bright, and—honestly—still a little bit creepy.

Dad was inside. And Cor. Reina was facing—that creepy burgundy-haired guy? What the hell was even happening? They had hands clasped as magic jumped between them like electricity over metal. At least, he thought it was magic. That was what it usually looked like when he tied lines with Reina—more or less—except this magic was red.

Everyone turned when Noctis entered—though Reina and the chancellor looked a second later than Dad and Cor. The visible signs of magic around them faded, but that didn't mean it was gone.

"Noctis." His dad sounded earnestly relieved. "You are safe. Good."

Luna drew level with Noct and gave him a significant look. She had said that the chancellor was pure evil. And that Reina was working with him.

But, damn it, he wasn't going to believe that unless Reina said it herself.

He turned away from Luna. "What the  _hell_ is going on?"

"A great many things." Reina was moving toward him. Actually, past him and toward the door.

Noctis caught her arm. "Rei.  _Please_. Tell me  _something_."

She looked at him with that complete and utter understanding that only Rei ever had for him. "Noctis, I swear, I will explain  _everything_ that I can once everyone is safe. But right now, there are daemons running through Insomnia and if I do not stop them, people will die."

Noct released her arm and let out a breath. "Right." Luna had him worried that Rei wanted everyone dead or some shit like that. Of course she didn't. She was trying to protect them. He had been right all along.

She threw her arms around his shoulders and hugged him tight—briefly. "Come, if you want." And then she pulled away toward the door.

Noctis glanced at Luna. She was still giving him that look, like the truth was staring him in the face and he couldn't see it, but it wasn't like that. She was the one who couldn't see it. Reina had just said that she wanted to protect people from the daemons, that she wasn't going to waste time standing around talking while Insomnia was in danger. How could Luna say she was some servant of the darkness or whatever after that?

He shook his head. He couldn't think of anything else to say, so he just turned around and followed Rei out. No matter what else she was, she was his twin. And she was fighting to protect Insomnia and everyone in it. She was fighting to keep Dad alive. If someone was drawing lines, Noct knew where he was standing.


	33. Ardyn, Delighted

And he had been thinking all the action was through until the signing. Of course, given that he was no longer guaranteed to see Insomnia go down in flames (there was still a remote possibility that it would happen anyway, irrespective of his own part in the matter), it wasn't  _strictly_ necessary that he stay at all. But really. Where was the fun in walking away? Besides, she might do something interesting. Again.

Sure enough, the little Dreamer delivered unto him entertainment to pass the long hours between that intriguing dinner and all hell breaking loose. Now she wanted the bond of the scourge. The mark of the Accursed. Doubtless he would have granted it to her no matter what she offered in return—the fun, after all, was in discovering  _what_ she was willing to offer and, of course, what she would do with it. Like passing a knife to a child who whined for it.

But with  _that_. That  _delicious_ proposition…

Why, how could he possibly resist?

He was even beginning to hope that she lived long enough to see her end of the bargain through.

So he gave her his  _gift_ while Lapcat and Daddy-dearest wore looks like he was deflowering the princess in front of them. As if he would do that.

He would have needed  _so_ much more time.

And then Noctis arrived. Ah,  _Noct_. The Chosen King and his loyal retainers and—oh, but that  _look_ that she wore!—Lady Lunafreya. From what followed—little more than a series of significant looks and heavy gazes with some naive trust from the Chosen One—Ardyn gathered that Lady Lunafreya didn't like the little Dreamer very much. Oh  _dear_. Such a shame. So the question was…

What did he have to do to turn that dislike into open hostility?

When the little Dreamer left, Ardyn followed first while everyone else was still sitting on their thumbs and looking a bit lost.

He caught her up easily—her legs were ever so tiny—and fell into step beside her. "You don't mind if I tag along, do you?"

"I doubt I could stop you if I wanted to." It wasn't entirely evident from her expression or intonation whether or not she  _did_ want to, but one thing  _was_ perfectly clear:

She knew him very well.

He studied her, rather than watching where he was walking. It  _would_ have rather ruined his éclat if he ran into a wall, but he was willing to take that risk for a shot at unnerving her.

It didn't work.

Unfortunate.

"Do you know, little Dreamer, you're beginning to intrigue me."

"Only beginning? How disappointing. And here I thought I had you thoroughly snared." She looked straight ahead; he could feel the pull of her magic—through his—as they walked. She was rounding them up. Every daemon in the Citadel, bound and tied and drawn to her irresistibly.

The Siren call.

Ardyn's smile deepened. He dropped behind her and cut around to her other side, just so he could lean over and whisper in her ear.

"I think I'd like to get to know you."

"You liked me a great deal," she said.

"How much?" He fell into step on her other side. It was hard to walk slow enough for such little legs, but he managed.

And…

She  _smiled_.

She looked him dead in the eye and positively smirked.

And that was the only answer she gave.

Curiouser and curiouser.

The rest of their little parade came along eventually, but it took stopping on the Citadel steps for Daddy-dearest to catch up at his hobbling pace. Someone give the man a wheelchair. Was Ardyn the  _only_ person with any empathy, anymore?

Outside, the beginnings of her work was visible. Dark figures crept and crawled and clawed their way down the street to converge on her. Inside, the daemons were doing much the same; they skittered down the walls and through every open door, and gathered in the entry hall before lurching toward her.

She was doing better than he had expected. He really ought to have expected more from her. She was nothing if not full of surprises, it seemed.

He rather liked it.

All around them, her company drew steel. Lapcat stepped in front of Daddy-dearest.

"Why are they all coming  _here_?" The blond one asked. What was his name? Chocobo-head?

"Because I called them," said the little Dreamer. "They won't harm you. I control them."

Judging by the looks they gave each other, Ardyn was guessing she  _hadn't_ shared that tidbit of information with them before this exact moment.

"Beware the poisoned chalice, Your Highness," Lady Lunafreya said.

Oh, but what was this? An opportunity to stir the pot?

"But of course!" Ardyn put his hands on the little Dreamer's shoulders and leaned over her, reaching one hand out toward the daemons that gathered in the square and just brushing his fingers over the strands of magic she held. "What would you do… if I took them from you…?"

He could practically  _feel_ the tension radiating from the others.

But not the little Dreamer.

"You won't," she said. "Because then you wouldn't get to see my next trick."

It was  _infuriating_ how right she was.

He forgave her, because the tricks she had pulled out of her sleeves thus far had been worth it.

This one was, too.

She stretched out her hand as he dropped his. He could feel her hold on his magic as she seized the daemons in the street and pulled. She dragged at them until every strand to every daemon snapped and broke, cutting lifeless bodies from the power that animated them. The daemons wasted away—just so much miasma—and the power flooded into her.

He hadn't even known that a human  _could_ absorb a daemon. In fact—

She turned, ignoring the shocked looks on the faces of her friends and family, and did the same with the daemons inside the Citadel. With each one she absorbed, her power swelled and her range increased. She threw her net wider over the city and called more daemons, and when those came she consumed them and stretched farther still until all of Insomnia fell within her grasp.

Ardyn stepped in front of her—not to be in the way, but just enough to see her face. He had to see—had to know—because it  _shouldn't have been possible_.

And it wasn't.

He watched as she absorbed the power from the daemons—that was the Starscourge itself she was pulling inside herself. And, sure enough, he watched the scourge take root, spreading and tainting until her veins ran black beneath fair skin and the excess dripped from her eyes like inky tears and ran down her face. When she was through—when not a single daemons moved within the city—she took all of that scourge and coiled it up in her core, where it sat humming and waiting to be used— _her_ power,  _her_ plaything.

For a moment all he could do was stare at her. She had just  _absorbed_ every daemon inside the city, multiplying her own power tenfold. She held the ring and—if he wasn't very much mistaken—the Wall. So she had taken everything she had—everything she was—and thrown it away for a chance to protect this city and her family.

Bit by bit, as his brain began to work again, his smile returned.

"You really do mean to sacrifice everything for them, don't you?" He asked.

She glanced at him. He knew the answer before she spoke, but she responded anyway. "Anything necessary."

They stood on the steps in silence as the visible signs of the scourge faded from her face. Ardyn stood with her, apart, and he threw his head back and laughed.

"Oh, you are a  _treasure_ , little Dreamer. I'll be looking forward to your next surprise."

And he turned, passed her little audience, and waltzed back across the castle to be in his room when the others woke. He would stick around for the final act of this play. The question was: would it be tragedy or comedy?


	34. Noctis, Asking Questions

Dad explained a bit of what had happened while they followed Rei. To be honest, Noct only heard half of it because he kept expecting something to jump out of the shadows at them. Nothing ever did. Sure, the Citadel hadn't been exactly teeming on the way down, but they had avoided a couple fights. Shouldn't there have been more daemons, here? More than none?

That wasn't even the weird part. The weird part was they stopped on the front steps and suddenly there  _were_ daemons. Everywhere.

Everyone was ready for the fight that never came. Instead, Reina reached out her hands and… something. He didn't even know. Just one more thing to add to the list of stuff he didn't know. But whatever; she got rid of the daemons and everyone was safe. Right? Sure. Yeah. Never mind that whole thing with the black mist disappearing inside Reina and the creepy chancellor waltzing off like his birthday had come twice this year.

When Rei turned around to walk back inside, Luna stepped in front of her. "It is not too late to turn from this path, Princess Reina."

Reina looked through her.

"To protect the crystal is the duty of the line of Lucis," Luna continued. "Would you really forsake your destiny so thoughtlessly?"

Rei's lips twitched like she wanted to smile but couldn't remember how. She laughed once, unamused. "Thoughtlessly? No, Lady Lunafreya. I have spent a great deal of time thinking on it."

Luna pressed on, "When first Gentiana revealed your heart to me, I believed, as Noctis does, that there must have been some mistake. Though we had not met for twelve years, I felt certain that what I knew of you must hold true. Now I see my trust was misplaced. In truth, I pity you; you are very much like him, aren't you? Perhaps you have done these things in the name of protecting your people, but in the end the result will be the same. You have taken the darkness into yourself. Even now I can feel it clutching at your soul. It will take you over, Princess Reina. Just as it did to him. You cannot consume the Starscourge and expect to remain its master."

In the silence that Reina let fall, Noctis chewed on Luna's words. At least she wasn't claiming that Rei was just plain evil, anymore. The idea that Reina might have been destroyed by some desire to protect Lucis wasn't much more comforting. But it did make more sense. And what did Luna mean about consuming the Starscourge? Wouldn't that give her the scourge?

Too many questions and Reina wasn't going to answer even one, at a guess.

After a solid six seconds of staring at her, Rei responded. "Again you are mistaken. On several levels. I haven't the time to fix that, but in short order: It has been twenty two years since we last met; your trust is still misplaced, but not in me; I am as alike him as I am unlike him, but it's true that I have come to resemble Ardyn. Five years with no other company will do that to a person. Not nearly as damaging as two thousand years with no company at all. I have done this to protect my family and friends; the rest is a side-effect. The Starscourge is darkness, not evil. The two are not synonymous. I would have thought the Princess of  _Tenebrae_  had made that distinction, by now. What consumed him was not evil, but hatred. Hatred for your Astrals, his brother, and every person who betrayed and abandoned him. If but one person had extended a hand to him, his soul might have been saved."

She had answered. Sort of. Though her responses left more questions than answers.

"Rei." Noct stepped forward, putting himself between them. "Luna said you want the Astrals and the crystal destroyed."

"She's right," Reina said.

"Then you stand against us," said Luna.

"You? Only if you stand in my way." Reina pushed past both of them and walked back into the Citadel.

Not exactly the confidence-inspiring answer he had been hoping for. Noct turned and followed her, jogging to catch up. It wasn't hard. She was still short, even if everything else was weird.

"Why?" He asked.

"Because everything that is wrong in this world has been caused by them."

"But—"

She stopped walking and looked at him. "When Insomnia is safe, I will answer every question you have. Until then, I must continue to ask you to trust me, Noct. Know only that my priorities are the lives and well-being of you and Father. All else stems from those."

She stared at him for a few seconds before she started walking again. And that was all there was to it.

He could do it. He could trust her without knowing why. It would have been harder not to—whatever Luna said. Reina wouldn't have done something like that without a good reason.

They all went back upstairs. A fierce, hushed argument between Rei and Dad ensued before he took himself to bed. Eventually Noctis fell asleep on one of the couches in the main lounge. When he did, Reina and Cor were pouring over papers and talking about Crownsguards. When he woke up, Reina was already gone.


	35. Cor, Preparing for the Signing

Any good soldier knows how to push the boundaries of wakefulness and work without sleep. Cor was nothing if not a good soldier.

Dawn came. Every Crownsguard was in position. The main bulk was inside the Citadel and out of sight—some incognito—but a portion remained outside with the civilians for crowd control. Reina was confident that the rebel group associated with the imperials had been rooted out, but she favored contingency. Better safe than sorry.

He had expected her to struggle more on short sleep. Sure, the diplomats and politicians had their share of long nights, but it was a far cry from this. She'd hardly slept in two days.

Then again, she was hardly a pampered princess anymore, was she? She was a ruler, a commander, and a battle-hardened veteran. She was his charge. And his queen.

The morning was fueled on adrenaline and the knowledge that if they wavered, all of Lucis would fall. After some debate, the Kingsglaive was assigned to protect the crystal. The imperials would split resources between the ring and the crystal—and, on Reina's hand, the ring would protect itself, which left only the crystal in need.

Reina—and, by extension, Cor—was to attend the signing along with Noctis and his retinue. She took time in the morning for diplomatic niceties with the imperial attaché. All the posturing made Cor's teeth hurt, but he went along and held his tongue. They learned two things. The first was that the night's misadventure seemed to have gone unnoticed by their guests. What daemons had made it through while the Wall was down had not made it into any of their rooms before Reina had taken charge. He couldn't help but wonder if that was related to the imperial chancellor.

Second, they witnessed up-close the imperials' reaction to the ring on her finger. Somehow she made it obvious that she was wearing it without appearing to flaunt it. The high commander openly stared, the emperor's eyes bugged, and his chief attendant spilled coffee down his white robes.

"Give them something to pass the time discussing," Reina remarked in an undertone as they left.

Even before the door shut behind them, the Nifs had gathered in hushed conference.

The hours drew on. At Reina's command, a ravine twenty miles south of Insomnia was surveyed; the Kingsglaives discovered an imperial fleet waiting, prepared for the impending invasion. She ordered only that they be watched.

Everything that could be pre-arranged without giving away their position had been. Tension in the throne room was tangible. Regis stood at the window, wringing his cane. Reina paced. Noctis sat on the steps and tapped a rhythmic pattern on the side of his boot.

Sitting idle was torture. Cor caught Reina by the shoulder and leaned close enough to drop his voice and still be heard. "I'm going to check in on the traitors."

"Go." She waved him away, distracted, and continued her pacing.

He went. Prompto stopped chewing his nail and looked up as he passed, hoping Cor would give him something to do besides sit and wait. Poor bastard. Better no one else knew what Reina had been doing in the dungeons.

An unusual number of attendants loitered in the hall outside the throne room. Cor recognized more than half the faces; he had trained those Crownsguards himself. Too bad he hadn't trained them as proficient actors. He'd have to have a word with them on the way back. For now he tried not to notice when they stood straighter and visibly resisted the urge to salute him.

The lift in the main lobby took him to the basement: a storage floor that spanned the width and breadth of the Citadel. Only stairs went down to the sub-basement. Cor's steps echoed in the narrow stairwell as he descended. The lights buzzed when he flicked the switch; with every landing he passed, the temperature dropped another degree.

He rounded the corner, passed the interrogation room, where Reina had first confronted Drautos, and struck out toward the cells farther down. Blood streaked the floor from where Cor had half-dragged Drautos, and a faint sulfur smell blended with copper in the stale air. Cor picked up his pace.

The light at the end of the hall flickered on and off. While it was on, he could see the debris piled in the walkway: chunks of masonry and a metal door six-inches thick, blown off its hinges.

Shit.

Drautos' cell—marked with a puddle of dried blood and red-brown hand prints on the wall—was empty. The adjacent cells were as well. The locks were blasted off and the doors hung free on their hinges and creaked when Cor pushed them open.

How had no one  _heard_ this?

Stupid question. The basements were designed that way.

The traitors were gone. Even without their magic, the Kingsglaives were formidable fighters, and now Glauca was free as well. Reina needed to know. Now.

He sprinted for the throne room. Never mind subtlety; the imperials knew at least half of their plan and now they had more imperial traitors in the city. More than one of the servants he passed looked alarmed. One girl dropped the tray of tea she was carrying. Several Crownsguards reached for their weapons, but he waved them down.

He skidded around the marble pillars as he turned the corner toward the throne room. The doors were in sight now. Too many attendants rushed to open them for him. He shoved through the gap before they managed.

"Your Highness!" Reina turned at his call. "The Glaives are gone."

Everyone was already staring at him. Regis' eyebrows snapped together. Noctis sat up straight. Reina stopped pacing; he could practically see the gears turning in her head.

Then: "Clarus, how long until the ceremony?"

"Less than an hour, Your Highness."

"The greater threat is to the crystal. They know I bear the ring—without further knowledge, they must also make the assumption that I wield the full power, which makes it a more difficult target. So the crystal is our weak point," She spoke rapidly—not so much thinking aloud as she was keeping them abreast of conclusions she had already drawn. "Noctis, I need you and your friends outside the crystal chamber."

Noctis lurched to his feet. "Right. Now?"

"Immediately."

"And you, my dear?" Regis asked.

"I will stay at your side."

"With the ring on your hand, the dangers to me are minimal," Regis said. "The Crownsguards stationed around and within the treaty chamber shall be more than sufficient. But if Niflheim throws their full weight behind an attack on the crystal—including General Glauca—I daresay even those Glaives and Noctis together will struggle to hold them back."

"And if he should come to the treaty room, instead?" She asked.

"Then he shall be sorely disappointed to find the trip was for naught. Reina, the crystal  _must_ be your priority." Regis stepped forward, grasping her shoulder. "You know this. If they break through, the Wall falls. If the Wall falls, so too does Insomnia."

"And if  _you_ die—"

"Then Insomnia and all the rest may still be salvaged, thanks to you," he said.

Though Regis held onto her shoulder, she was as tense as a statue. She would never make that choice. She would never put Regis' life in danger, even at the cost of the kingdom.

" _Go_ , my dear. I will be fine," Regis said. "My strength is greater without the weight of the Wall."

She stood frozen for a full five seconds, staring at him.

"You had better be," she said. And, against everything Cor thought he had known about her, she turned around and walked away, putting the safety of the kingdom before that of Regis.

Cor fell into place one step behind her and to her right as they followed Noctis and his retinue out of the hall.

"I am going to tear Drautos' heart from his chest and force it down his throat." She said it so calmly and matter-of-factly. In spite of the disjoint between her words and her tone, Cor found himself agreeing with her. No traitors walked free tonight.

For one minute, Cor had thought he had witnessed the impossible: Reina, choosing to protect the kingdom over her father. But he hadn't. He had only seen how far revenge would drive her.


	36. Ignis, Defending the Crystal

Everything was accomplished with the utmost efficiency; he expected no less from Her Highness. By the time they had arrived at the throne room in the morning—a little bedraggled and with Ignis cursing himself for sleeping so late (indeed, for sleeping at all when Princess Reina had not so much as a minute)—the entirety of the Lucian ruling council, His Majesty, Princess Reina, and Marshal Leonis were all present. Grand company.

They were meant to sit in on the treaty signing—or whatever was to come to pass in its stead—but plans changed rapidly. The rush of a morning blurred into a rush of an afternoon and a rush to the crystal chamber. While it seemed unlikely that the imperials would strike before everyone was assembled in the treaty chamber, time was of the essence.

Outside the reinforced doors to the crystal antechamber, they met with a small army of Crownsguards and all that remained of the Kingsglaive—some few dozen. It appeared excessive. But Reina knew what she was doing. If so many were assigned to guard the crystal, the threat was far greater than he had imagined.

Brief introductions were exchanged—Ignis had met the new captain of the Kingsglaive in passing, but had not previously connected the face and name—and they settled in for a tense wait. Everyone counted the minutes until the signing commenced and held their breath as updates came crackling over the Crownsguards' radio. Not long after that, Marshal Leonis and Princess Reina joined them. So the plans had changer further, even after Ignis and the others had departed. But if Reina was here, rather than at the signing, then she must have expected a massive force of imperials coming for the crystal.

The only explanation she gave for their presence was, "It is likely that the traitor Glaives will attack us; if any of you have qualms against killing your former comrades, speak now. But know that, before I intervened, they killed every last one of you, save Ulric and Ostium."

Throughout the hall, the Glaives stood firm. There was a hardened resolve about them. Though little had been explained about what exactly had come to pass with the Kingsglaive, the remaining soldiers seemed unlikely to forgive their traitorous brethren any time in the near future.

Reina stood at the front, flanked by the Kingsglaives and Cor. The Crownsguards stood behind them, and all the way behind, with their backs to the crystal chamber, Ignis stood with Noct, Gladio, and Prompto—the last line of defense. It seemed unlikely that they would even engage in combat. Best that the prince be as far removed from the front as possible. The princess should have stood with them, but, given her display the night before with the daemons, Ignis had very few concerns for her safety. She would be fine up front.

It wasn't much longer that they waited, after that.

The blast came first, echoing from around the curve of the hall and down the stairs. A cloud of smoke billowed after. It seemed the imperials had blasted straight through the outer door without trying to handle. It hadn't been locked.

The sound of armored footfalls preceded the imperial soldiers masquerading as Aldercapt's honor guard. Shots ricocheted off the walls and Ignis stepped in front of Noctis, knives drawn and at the ready.

"Glaives—take them down." Reina lifted her hands and a shield sprang up before her; the next round of bullets shattered harmlessly against her magic. "Crownsguards—hold your position."

Her barrier dropped and a dozen blue streaks shot past Reina's shoulders. Each one ended in a dagger, which struck an imperial. By the time the Glaives had re-appeared to pull their blades from the bodies, Reina's shield was back in place.

More imperials flooded the hall to take the place of their fallen comrades. With this next wave came familiar, dark-clad figures still wearing the Kingsglaive crest. Traitors. They were unworthy of His Majesty's mark. They dove into combat, Glaive versus Glaive, while the imperials crept closer.

Noctis shifted his weight and his grip on his sword. "I wanna kill some Nifs, Rei!"

"Time for that later!" She shouted back without turning.

The traitor Glaives outnumbered the loyal ones. They used every ounce of training and teamwork they had learned under His Majesty's employ and turned it against him, moving as a whole and doubling or tripling up as often as they were able.

But they no longer held the king's magic.

Perhaps the loyal Glaives had the inferior numbers, but their opponents' blades passed harmlessly through air as they phased out of the way more often than not, and when steel  _did_ connect, it was with the shimmering magic of a solid barrier. Thunder cracked and lightning leapt from Glaive to treacherous Glaive before they could withdraw. Fire blasted from outstretched hands and left the treasoners scorched and screaming.

While the Glaives were so occupied with their once-allies, the imperials tested the strength of Reina's barrier.

"Crownsguards—fire at will!" She dropped the shield.

Or at least, he thought she had. But though the ranks of Crownsguards leveled their weapons and took down half a dozen imperials before the the Nifs thought to retreat for cover, imperial bullets cracked against magic and fell harmlessly to the floor—in spite of that, Ignis could see no indication of a barrier, save when the bullets struck it.

"Your Highness!" Captain Ulric plunged his knife into a traitor-Glaive and turned to shout over his shoulder. "Lookout reports the imperial fleet is nearly overhead."

"Noted, Captain."

The imperials adjusted their strategy, using the curve of the hall as shelter from the Crownsguards' fire. Reina ordered them to stand their ground. She remained rooted to the spot, throwing up barriers to protect those behind her as necessary, but even from so far behind, Ignis could see the tension growing in her back and shoulders.

"Where is he?" She asked Cor. "If Drautos was going after the crystal, he would be here by now."

Cor shook his head. He asked for a visual on the former Glaive captain over his radio and, apparently, received an unsatisfactory response.

"I'm going," she said.

"Your Highness, if he comes here—"

"Then you and the Glaive will hold him off until I return," she cut him off. "Ulric! I need a shield in front of the Crownsguards."

The captain was beside her in a literal flash of blue light, building a barrier behind hers.

"Protect the crystal with your life," she said to him. "Cor—"

"I belong at your side, Your Highness."

"You will only slow me down and I  _need_ you here in case he comes." She didn't give him the chance to argue further; she warped down the hall, through a hail of gunfire, past the clash of Glaives, and out of sight.

Imperial bullets shattered on Captain Ulric's barrier. And, while the marshal swore loudly, Ignis heard over the Crownsguard radio:

" _Marshal! General Glauca is in the treaty room—repeat: he is in the treaty room."_


	37. Regis, At the Signing

Under other circumstances, it would have been immensely rewarding to watch the discomfort with which Emperor Aldercapt greeted them. He was well-guarded, of course, as any halfway decent politician was, but his fingers tapped an anxious pattern on the arm of his chair and he tugged at his beard as he stared into the distance. Gone was the emperor assured that he had come to conquer. Instead, he had come face to face with the possibility that he would not walk away with the ring and crystal—indeed, not walk away at all.

But Regis' focus was elsewhere and he did not allow himself to feel satisfied by this momentary lead. General Glauca was still unaccounted for and, while the crystal and ring were both well-guarded, brute force was  _not_ the only path to success for Niflheim.

Everything proceeded by the book. Remarkably enough. Though the emperor's countenance suggested he had expected something to occur by then, they were left standing before the treaty that neither had any intention of signing. An awkward pause stretched before them. In the silence of the room, they both studied the carefully worded pages set on the table and waited. No one moved or breathed. Regis watched Aldercapt's hands as they twitched toward his gun belt. All it took was one little twist of pressure and the whole thing snapped.

Clarus drew steel first—"They have attacked the crystal chamber!"—and nearly before the words were out of his mouth, everyone else in the room had weapons drawn and at the ready.

Regis reached for a handful of lightning and held his palm outstretched, prepared to release it upon the emperor. It came more readily than it had the night before. He shaped it to his will and held it tight.

"You are too late, Iedolas," he said. "Your men will never break through the army that stands between them and the crystal. Stand down now and let us avoid this bloodshed."

"You show your hand too early, King Regis. We have resources, yet."

Let it never be said that Regis had not given the imperials a fair chance to throw down their weapons. Today the war ended, one way or another.

He stared down the barrel of Aldercapt's gun and felt the lightning in his palm strain to fly free. Even with the pretense of peace gone, they stood at an impasse. For the moment.

On the opposite end of the hall, the doors slammed open. Eyes turned, imperial and Lucian alike as the Crownsguards poured in, but those who had been expecting it—Regis, Clarus, and the handful of Crownsguards disguised among the ranks of diplomats and council members—took the momentary distraction as the opportunity that it was.

Regis' lightning lept. In a crack, a dark scorch mark marred Aldercapt's white robe and his gun flew from his fingers. Clarus' sword bridged the gap across the room and landed in someone's neck. Gunfire split the din—first from the Crownsguards, then from the imperials.

He threw another handful of lightning, thrusting Aldercapt across the room with the weight behind it. The emperor crashed into the far wall and fell to the ground. For the first time in years, Regis reached for his blade and found it waiting, just on the other side of reality. It jumped at his call with a flash of blue. How long had it been since he had stood in true battle and felt a man, rather than an invalid? Thirteen years, at least. The weight of his sword in his hand was a comfort.

The Crownsguards had flooded the room. A spray of imperial bullets scattered in his direction. The only barrier Regis had held in fifteen years was the Wall. He had no time to remember how it was done. He threw out his hand and the magic leapt to his call, coalescing into a solid hemisphere of magic; the bullets cracked harmlessly against the outside. He let out a breath. Life or death dragged long-forgotten skills to the forefront of his mind. But his men weren't impervious. Even through the glitter of his magic he watched them fall. He gathered up another handful of lightning, eyes flicking across the battle beyond his barrier. Could he strike only the imperials without harming his own men? Did it matter? If he did nothing they would fall to imperial bullets.

What caught his eye, however, was not the Crownsguards who fell in defense of king and country, nor the imperials who struck them down. It was, rather, the imperials who did not.

The imperial chancellor stood in the center of the commotion, unconcerned with the whole ordeal, save as a spectacle for his entertainment. After last night, Regis had no idea what to make of the man—never had he expected aid from a snake like Ardyn Izunia, but he was beginning to understand that there was more to him than met the eye. Stranger still, however, was the imperial high commander; Ravus Nox Fleuret put his back against the far wall, letting his countrymen shield him from return fire, but he, himself, loosed no bullets and only held his sword at his side in a defensive stance.

Both had danced with Reina the night before.

But of course. She had seen every threat that Niflheim brought to Insomnia and she had dismantled them one by one. Some were simple—send the Crownsguards to raid the rebels' hole—and others less so—split the Kingsglaive in two and tear the bond of his magic from half of them. But for others she had taken a more subtle approach, using neither fire nor steel against, but some brand of diplomacy and bribery and Gods knew what else. She had done it in plain sight; anything else would have aroused suspicion. And she had pulled two formidable imperials from their ranks and pushed them to the side. Regis wasn't willing to count on their aid, but he appreciated their lack of antagonism, if only for the moment.

It all made very little difference when the window overhead shattered and the armored form of General Glauca landed behind Regis with a crash loud enough to pierce the sounds of battle.

So he was not with others at the crystal, after all.

Regis turned to face him, releasing his sword to free his hand. He could feel the pull of a dozen strands—the glaives of the Armiger waiting to be called once more—and he meant to put them to use. The last time he had faced Glauca he had been a younger man, intent on protecting his children above all else. Though he was old now, he had no liabilities. No children to protect. And fleeing was not an option.

"Regis!" Clarus' voice seemed to echo, even above the sounds of battle.

"Call the retreat, Clarus," Regis ordered.

Drautos would kill them all; no Crownsguard stood a chance against him. Indeed, even without the weight of the Wall on his shoulders, Regis stood very little chance, either. But he could hold him back for a little while at least. And then… well.

He only hoped Reina would forgive him.

"Drautos." Regis stood his ground. From behind him came the scuffling of dozens of Crownsguards fleeing from the path of inevitable destruction. "How unfortunate that my daughter showed you mercy when she might have ended your life."

"Mercy?" His voice boomed, deep and distorted—unrecognizable as belonging to Titus Drautos at all. "You are more of a fool than I thought, to know your own daughter so little."

The mask of his Magitek armor melted back, as if made of liquid that could reform at will. Beneath was Drautos' face—or some semblance of it. Half the skin was red and blistered—burned as if from a fire. What little had been spared from the fire was bruised and broken, split and bloodied.

Against his will, Regis recoiled. What in the name of Eos had happened to him?

"Death would have been a mercy, if she truly meant to repeat this treatment every day for ten years." Without the mask, he spoke in his own voice—albeit a little more hoarse than usual. "Count it a blessing that she only managed one; now I only have one to pay back to her."

He spat a mouthful of blood and then his mask reformed over his face. Regis refused to think about the meaning behind those words. He clenched his hand on his cane and squared his shoulders.

"You have come to the wrong place then. My daughter is well away from here."

"I did not say I meant to pay it back to  _her_." Before Regis had a moment to register what he had said, Drautos lunged.

Regis threw out his hand, calling the Armiger for the first time in twelve years. A dozen blades cut through the physical realm, catching Drautos' blade and holding, even as he strained against them. The strength it took to hold them in place was more mental than physical, but it dragged at Regis' body as well as his mind. And he knew full well his strength would give out before Drautos' did.

A blade swung from behind Drautos, dragging over the metal of his armor and throwing sparks. Drautos shoved the Armiger away, forcing Regis back a step, and turned to grab Clarus by the front of his robes.

"Clarus—!" Where had he even  _come_ from?

Drautos hurled him across the room. He struck the wall with a groan, but Regis had no time to check if he was still alive; Drautos rounded on him before Clarus hit the ground. This time Regis threw up a barrier and Drautos' blade struck the outside. He had never been so sharply aware of the finite power of his shields as he was now.

There was no reasoning with Drautos. Not if all he wanted was to inflict pain on Reina by harming Regis. And there was no holding against the strength of his blows. He lifted his sword once more and brought it crashing down on Regis' barrier. This time the shield shattered beneath his blade.

Regis recoiled, but not far enough. He was still within range when Drautos seized his arm and jerked him off balance. His cane clattered to the floor, his knee buckled under the weight, but Drautos kept a vice grip on his arm.

"Father!"

Reina.

Damn.

Damn them all—the Gods, the imperials, Drautos, and even himself for feeling one instant of relief when he heard her voice because right now she was the only person in Insomnia who could stand against Drautos and win.

But it was too late.

She was only going to watch him die again.

Drautos dragged him upright and Regis found himself looking down the length of the treaty room, pinned against an armored chest with a sword across his throat. His chest heaved. He couldn't catch his breath. He might have been standing on his own, but if he had been forced to take a step, he would have fallen.

They weren't alone. The Crownsguards had withdrawn from Drautos but not from the room—they bound still-breathing imperials and offered aid to their fallen comrades, dragging survivors away from the fighting, though now some watched the spectacle with uncertainty. Clarus lay on the floor where he had fallen. Regis stared at him long enough to see the rise and fall of his chest. He breathed a silent prayer of gratitude.

And there, in the thrown-open doors, was Reina with her naginata in hand and the Ring of the Lucii blazing on her finger. For the first time since she had returned to Insomnia, he saw on her face what had been there so often the past few weeks—

Fear.

"Forgive me, my dear." Regis shut his eyes because he couldn't bear to watch her see this. Again. After ten years of living with it and never recovering. After two frantic days of trying to prevent it. By his own failings, he would die anyway.

She was never going to be alright. He understood that now. He would have given anything to spare her from this.

But it was too late.

"Little  _Princess_." The affectionate moniker that Regis used for her was mocking in Drautos' Magitek-distorted voice. "You're just in time."

"If you kill him again, I will  _never_ let you die," Reina said. "I will feed you Starscourge and taint and your ten years of suffering will stretch for an eternity and you will  _never know peace_."

Regis hadn't known that so much vitriol existed within his daughter's entire soul. But when he looked at her now, any doubts he had about the truth of Drautos' words were erased. She had tortured him. She had meant to do so every day for ten years to pay back the living nightmare she had endured.

"You cannot beat me," Reina said. "I can crush you with one hand, and as soon as your shield is gone, I will."

As if to prove her point, the ring flared to life on her finger. It glowed blue and the magic cut across her skin, dancing and flickering and waiting to be used. She should have struck and been done with it. Regis shut his eyes and gritted his teeth.

"Then I will make you a deal,  _Princess_ ," Drautos said. "The ring… for your father's life."

Regis' eyes snapped open.

No. Gods no.

"Reina—!" Regis' fingers dug into the armored hand that held him in place. "Lucis needs you."

Lucis needed her to have the ring and he was not more important than that.

Reina's eyes flicked between Drautos and Regis.

"Choose wisely, Princess." Drautos pressed his blade more firmly against Regis' throat, eliminating all chance of further words.

She released her naginata.

No. Please, Reina.

"I'm sorry, Father," she said.

And she pulled the ring from her finger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Okay, but did we really think she would do anything different? Come on.
> 
> Want to read what happens next right now? Patreons get early access to chapters, plus other goodies: https://www.patreon.com/EmeryDrake


	38. Cor, Engaging

He should never have let her leave on her own. The voice crackling across the Crownsguard frequency confirmed that much for him moments after she had gone.

Whatever she said, whatever her plans, however powerful she may have been, it was always better to have backup. And if Drautos was in the treaty room then he wasn't coming after the crystal. The Glaives had this situation under control.

Cor ducked out of line, taking what cover he could behind the friendly Glaives and cutting through any who stood in his way. He might not have had Reina's magic and her ability to warp halfway across the Citadel, but he was at least as stubborn as she was.

He sprinted through the Citadel, only slowing when he drew near the treaty room. Every servant he expected to find lingering in the halls and every Crownsguard stationed along the way was absent. Where the servants had gone, he could only guess. Somewhere safer, hopefully. The Crownsguards he found on the way. As he drew closer to the treaty room the sounds of battle grew louder. The doors were thrown open—beyond, the crushed chairs and shattered glass littered the floor; Crownsguards poured out, dragging allies and enemies alike.

Cor skidded to a halt outside, just in time to watch Reina pull the ring from her finger.

Overhead, the Wall crumbled. It fell inward in pieces like a shattered window—a glittering shower of prismatic light falling across the entire city—except the magic evaporated before it hit the ground.

On the other side of the room, Drautos stood with his blade bare against Regis' throat. Cor ducked against the doorway. If he drew attention to himself, the whole thing could collapse in the wrong direction. He was not getting Regis killed. Not now. Not ever.

Reina held the ring up. Drautos shifted his hold on Regis—keeping the blade to his throat but preparing to shove him aside as soon as Reina released the ring.

She threw it. The chime of metal against stone echoed in the suddenly-quiet room.

Drautos shoved Regis in the opposite direction. She could have gone for the ring again, but she wouldn't—Cor knew even before she warped across the room to catch Regis. Drautos didn't move for the ring, either. He lifted his blade as soon as Reina had her hands full keeping Regis upright.

"Your Highness—!" No time to think. Cor surged forward, sword bare in his hands, and brought it up overhead as he reached them. Drautos' blade came down.

By the Gods, he was strong. Stronger than any man had a right to be. He bore down on Cor until every muscle in his body was screaming protests. But he would not give in. He could not.

All at once the pressure from above released. An armored fist struck him from the side, throwing him across the room and into the wall. Bones cracked in his chest. His lungs refused to expand and his vision turned bright with blinking lights. Through the haze of pain, before he slumped fully to the floor, he caught sight of Reina standing her ground between Drautos and Regis as Drautos lifted Cor's own sword with a reverse grip, preparing to launch it across the room at him.

"Cor—!" Reina's eyes were wide and haunted. Had she seen this all? Had she been here before?

Drautos released the sword.

Lightning flashed. Cor's katana struck the wall to his right and clattered to the ground, smoking.

Regis was still leaning on Reina's shoulder, standing behind her. Both of them held one hand stretched palm out and crackling with magic.

Cor dragged himself to his feet as Drautos swung his own sword at Reina and Regis and struck only her barrier. He picked up his sword—still smoking but only warm to the touch—and rounded on them, ignoring the shooting sensation that shattered his chest from every cracked rib when he moved. It was only pain.

"Cor—" Reina thrust her shield outward, knocking Drautos back and throwing a handful of lightning at him. "We need the emperor taken alive."

"Where is he?" Cor asked.

"Fled." Regis held one arm across Reina's shoulders, but lifted his own swords as soon as Drautos moved back in. The Armiger caught and held Drautos. For now.

"Find him, Cor!" Reina's lightning crackled over Drautos' armor while he struggled against Regis' blades—the only indication that it did anything was a groan of pain from within the Magitek suit.

Still, Cor hesitated. Regis had instructed him to protect her. And Regis had no Shield, either—Clarus was out cold on the other side of the room. They were holding their own against Drautos, but how long would that last? Regis wasn't as young as he had been, and Reina may have been powerful, but she was liable to do something stupid without a hand to hold her back.

"That's an order, Leonis!" She shouted.

For the first time in his life, Cor weighed an order from the crown against his own gut feeling of the situation. What happened if he walked out of that room? How much would Reina be willing to give up to get revenge on Drautos? The Wall was already gone. She wouldn't risk Regis' life, but anyone and anything else was fair game.

And what happened if he didn't go? Emperor Aldercapt would walk free. The imperial fleet was closing overhead. The Wall was down. They couldn't fight an army of MTs. The only way Insomnia survived this night was if they took the emperor.

She was right. He needed to go. Cor gritted his teeth and, grudgingly, turned to jog out of the room, picking up as many of the remaining Crownsguards on his way as he could. He could only hope that Regis tempered Reina enough to save her.


	39. Regis, Pulled Away

For one moment, both of their lives had flashed before his eyes. Miraculously—inexplicably—they were both still breathing.

For now.

They were also alone and without the ring.

Regis shifted his balance to his good leg and released his hold on Reina's shoulder—she would need all the mobility she could get and he was little but a hindrance to her now. She reached back and grabbed his arm, keeping only half an eye on Drautos.

"Let me go, my dear. You cannot win this fight and support me at the same time."

Still she hesitated. Drautos closed in again, sword rising overhead while she was distracted—or he thought she was. But she took a step back, putting Regis directly behind her again, and throwing up a barrier all in one motion. Drautos' blade crashed into her shield. The magic held true.

"Let me go, Reina." Regis squeezed her hand. "I am capable of defending myself if he does not turn his full attention on me."

She would see to it that Drautos had no opportunity to do so. Reluctantly, while Drautos struggled to shatter her barrier, Reina released her hold on Regis' sleeve and turned her full attention to the battle at hand.

Drautos had yet to retrieve the ring. Whatever his motivations had been, he now seemed to prioritize retribution over all else. The Ring of the Lucii lay where Reina had thrown it: across the room, black metal stark against the white marble floor. If Regis could reach it—

He took one step on his good leg. The right one had not willingly supported his weight in almost five years, but he fixed his eyes on the ring and put that thought from his mind. Either it would hold him or he would be forced to drag himself across the room. His cane was well out of reach. He put his foot down and his weight behind his knee. Pain shot up his thigh and down his shin; he clutched at his leg, gasping, but he forced his other foot across the floor. One step. Now another. He fixed on his goal, wary of the sound of metal clashing against metal, and lightning crackling across Magitek behind him. They were far enough away for now.

Someone stepped into view. He stooped and plucked the Ring of the Lucii from the floor while Regis was still half a room away.

Imperial High Commander Ravus Nox Fleuret. Wherever his loyalties lay, Regis was loath to trust one such as him with the ring.

"Reina," Regis called over the sound of thunder and steel. He kept his eyes on the commander.

She spun, first to look at Regis, then to look where he did. Drautos turned as well, once he was back on his feet—his armor now smoking.

"The Ring of the Lucii…" Ravus held it between thumb and forefinger, admiring it in the light. Then his eyes landed on Regis. "So much strife over such a trifle. If any could wear it and gain unfathomable power, why would we follow a pampered brat?"

Reina stepped forward put herself at Regis' side once more. She ducked beneath his arm and Regis leaned on her against his better judgement. He let out a sigh of relief. Drautos was still too close for comfort. But he lifted his blade and primed in Ravus' direction.

"That isn't how it happens, Ravus," Reina said. "You lose your arm—and only that because they are merciful."

Ravus looked to her, face unreadable but intense. She held out her hand, palm up, as if expecting him to pass over the ring.

Drautos leapt.

The ring flew, forming a neat arc in the opposite direction. Drautos shifted mid-flight—or he tried to—and missed Ravus, Reina, and the ring entirely. Reina caught it deftly and, in one fluid motion, put it back on her finger.

"Ravus." Reina reached back to brush her fingers over Regis' arm, but kept her eyes locked on Drautos. "Get my father out of here. Take him someplace safe and  _keep him that way_."

Ravus looked at Regis, utter loathing clear on his face. Not that Regis was pleased, himself, to rely on the aid of such a man—nor to leave her on her own.

Against all odds, Ravus stepped forward—his movements odd and jerky, as if he were being forced against his will. But he picked up Regis' cane, thrust it into his hand, and grabbed his other arm none too gently. If Reina trusted him then Regis had little choice except to do likewise, but it was no secret that the commander wanted him dead.

"Know this, Ravus," Reina said. "I could not care less about your sister. If he dies, I will kill her myself."

Ravus wasn't the only one staring at her, shocked by her blunt words and—more so—the look on her face. She would have done it. She would have killed an innocent for Regis' life. What had he done to allow her to come to this? Ten years he had left her alone, but before that he had been a poor father to her. If they survived tonight, he would make it right.

He would make it right.

Ravus jerked at his arm, dragging him away from Reina.

"Reina—!" Regis pulled back. "Do not do this on your own!"

"Go, Father! I will be fine."

But she didn't see the swirl of black mist in the corner as the dark tile darkened further and the air became practically opaque. Perhaps she could take care of herself. But Drautos  _and_ daemons—

"Reina!"

What stepped out of the fog was worse than daemons.

It was Ardyn Izunia.

Ravus pulled. He wasn't much bigger than Regis, but he was certainly stronger. And though Regis tried to turn back, to stand at Reina's side, he was drawn away—practically dragged as his shoes and cane slipped over smooth tile. He had no choice but to leave her alone with two monsters, unless he actively wished to cause conflict with his so-called protector.

So he went, mind numb with the thought that Reina could—and would—kill Lunafreya merely to serve revenge unto Ravus, and heartsick with turning his back on her once more.


	40. Ardyn, Observing

Overall, he had to admit that the evening was going swimmingly. From that amusing moment of panic when the Lucians realized their prisoners were free—which, by the way, he had nothing to do with, but yes,  _of course_  he had known about it and not said anything because what, precisely, was the fun in that?—to the way Emperor Aldercapt sweated profusely when the anticipated explosions in the square had never gone off, Ardyn had been titillated all day. Iedolas  _had_ been running a rather long shot on those explosives, expecting that his plants hadn't been dug up along with his spies and double-crossers. But alas, he was a madman and one cannot expect a madman to abide by logic.

Ardyn knew, of course, from first hand experience.

He had attended the signing and sat, humming quietly to himself as the rest of the world hummed with tension.  _Someone_ had to introduce a variant tune. And when, inevitably, all hell had broken loose—as those who were unfamiliar with hell were wont to say—he had stood in the midst of it and reveled in the break in monotony.

They would have been massacred, the Lucians, if the little Dreamer hadn't returned in time to throw wrenches and turn tides. How many lives she had saved, he would never know because she had promptly thrown them away again when she traded the Ring of the Lucii—and thus the Wall—for her father's life.

Tsk. And he had thought better of her than that.

Then again. What was the purpose of complete and utter sacrifice? If what she wanted was her father, why  _not_ preserve him? Simply because some fool with a mask and wings had given her two-thousand-year-removed ancestor a ring and a title and a responsibility he, nor any of his kin, had ever asked for?

Perhaps it wasn't so base. He could respect doing a thing simply because one wanted to.

So she saved Daddy-dearest and sent him away with—interestingly enough—one of the few people in the room who wanted him dead. So she had the ever-so-pretty Commander Nox Fleuret under her thumb, did she? Ardyn had guessed that much, after she had danced with him, but it was nice to know for certain. And she actually trusted him—not only to  _not_ kill her father, but to keep him safe.

Ah.

But she had a reason for that, didn't she? A little piece of motivation. Perhaps she had given him the carrot last night while they spun round and round the dance floor, but now she bared her teeth and showed the stick.

Oh yes. She  _would_ kill Lunafreya merely to harm Ravus. And she wouldn't even feel bad about it, afterward.

He could respect  _that_ , as well.

Left alone with only Ardyn for an audience, the little Dreamer circled her prey, blade bare in her hand and ring alight on her finger. Glauca—ah, apologies, he was called  _Drautos_ , in this country—was thinking of ways to escape. She was thinking of ways to torture him without killing him. She only spared Ardyn a fleeting glance.

"Don't interfere," she said.

" _I?_ " Ardyn asked, affronted. "I would  _never_ stand between a Caelum and sweet vengeance."

She pounced at her prey. Her glaive dragged over Glauca's armor and sparks flew; then it vanished and she reared back, hand glowing blue-white, and plunged her whole fist through his chest. The Fulgarian's gift rippled across the Magitek armor. Not even a modulated voice, designed to make him sound  _so_ big and tough could make those screams any less pathetic.

Ardyn righted the treaty table, perched on the edge, and picked up the treaty itself. He flipped through the pages. "I can't believe you were  _actually_ going to sign this. Willingly give up all your lands to Niflheim and just  _hope_ we honor the treaty and don't storm your gates as soon as the Wall comes down? You must have been desperate."

The little Dreamer leapt back from her prey. She landed neatly on her feet; her prey doubled over on one knee and had to put out a hand to steady himself.

"I wasn't going to sign anything." She never even looked away.

Glauca pushed himself up and she let him get all the way back to his feet before she launched another bolt of lightning at him. It was ever so much more fun to knock them over after they were on their feet, wasn't it? This time she blasted him straight into the wall and held him there, just listening to the screams as his armor began to smoke. The louder he yelled the more intense the enjoyment on her face grew.

Ah, the taste of revenge.

Ardyn cast the treaty aside. "When I say 'you,' I mean in the general sense. 'You Lucians.' Admittedly, the language is ambiguous, so I can't blame you for the misunderstanding. There really  _should_ be a plural form of—"

" _Ardyn._ " She dropped Glauca back on the ground, where he lay, smoking and breathing heavily.

Ardyn put on his best and most charming smile for her. "Yes, little Dreamer?"

" _Shut up._ "

He laughed. And he only laughed harder when she waited for Glauca to stand back up before blasting him off his feet again.

It took the fool another two tries to realize he could deflect her magic with his blade. It was just as well that the Magitek was sustaining him—how disappointing would it have been if she had killed him accidentally before he managed to even put up a fight?

How terribly boring.

After that it was less a massacre and more a battle. He was still sorely outmatched—oh, and he knew it—but at least he managed not to scream so much during the second half of things. She was only toying with him. It was just a shame his face was all obscured. Wouldn't it have been nice to watch the budding panic transform into desperation?

Visible or not, they both knew for certain when it happened. That was when he turned and bounded out through the same window he had crashed through in the first place, like a hare fleeing a wolf. Apt.

And so began the third half of things. Yes. Well. He hadn't expected it to go on quite so long.

"Didn't your mother teach you not to play with your food?" He called after the little Dreamer as she lifted her glaive and prepared to chase the rabbit.

She stopped and turned back toward him. "Mother died when I was three months old. Likely the reason I can't feel love and have more daddy issues than I can count."

That. That was a joke, wasn't it?

She warped out of the room while Ardyn was still trying to decide. He sat alone in silence for a few moments before he threw back his head and laughed.

Oh, she  _was_ right.

He  _did_ like her a great deal.


	41. Cor, On the Trail

Boot-clad feet thundered down the Citadel hall behind him. They didn't have the manpower to perform a thorough search of the Citadel, let alone Insomnia, but Cor led the sweep from the treaty room down to the ground level and entrance hall. The emperor and what remained of his attache would flee to the open, hoping to be picked up by one of their ships. Probably. By now, the imperial fleet they had been watching all day must have been within range of Insomnia in anticipation of the Wall falling.

Well the Wall  _had_ fallen. Not because the imperials had succeeded in taking the crystal but because Reina had bought her father's life by pulling it down. Time would tell whether or not her choice was worth it; if Insomnia was overrun, Regis would die anyway, along with everyone else in the city.

They hit the entrance hall; the cool night air from the thrown-open doors blasted his face. Outside, pandemonium reigned.

The fleet of Magitek engines hung in the sky overhead, engines blazing red against the black sky. MTs rained down, dropping into the streets and picking themselves up as if they hadn't just fallen hundreds of feet. Civilians fled before them, unprotected because the vast majority of the Crownsguards had been recalled to the Citadel to protect the crystal and the ring. Little good all that protection did, when all the imperials had to do was threaten Regis and Reina would give them whatever they liked.

How had they been so stupid, leaving Regis unprotected like that? They had been so focused on the crystal and the ring that alternate weak points had entirely slipped their mind. Not that Reina had ever been given the choice to sacrifice an entire kingdom for her father, before, but...

Well. He couldn't honestly say he didn't understand what must have gone through her head.

No time to worry about that now.

" _Marshal."_ His radio crackled. " _Pressure outside the crystal chamber is easing up. Instructions?"_

Cor stopped at the top of the Citadel steps, watching chaos unfold in the square below. What to protect? People were dying. Hell, people were already dead, and more would be before the night was over, no matter  _what_ they did. Regis had been willing to sacrifice much for their safety, before Reina returned. He had assigned every Crownsguards, including Cor, to protect the people rather than the Citadel. If everyone was dead it would make possession of the crystal a moot point. On the other hand, if the imperials took the crystal, Insomnia was all but guaranteed to fall.

Shit.

"Squads five and six remain with the crystal. I want the rest of you on the streets—your new assignment is the protect the civilians," Cor spoke into his radio.

" _Yes, sir, Marshal!"_

"Are the Glaives still with you?"

" _Yes, Sir."_

" _On your frequency, Marshal,"_ Captain Ulric's voice said.

"Good. Ulric, I need your people sweeping the city; Aldercapt is out here somewhere. We can't afford to let him get away."

" _Hey. Cor. What about us?"_ Noctis must have stolen someone's radio.

"Your sister and father are in the treaty room with Drautos, the emperor is free, and the city is crawling with daemons and MTs alike. Make your choice," Cor said. "But make it fast."

And with that, Cor waded into the streets, sword drawn and five dozen Crownsguards at his heels. Orders sent out over the radio would bring the rest of them. Those imperials who had been inside the treaty room were, for the most part, either dead or in custody; he wasn't worried about the humans any longer.

He cut down MT after MT while the Crownsguards dragged civilians to safety—whatever that meant now. They could have evacuated the city, but it wouldn't have been any safer. It would have divided the Crownsguards that he had at his disposal. Better to keep them in one place.

Overhead, streaks of blue against the night sky indicated that the Kingsglaive had taken flight and were searching for the emperor. Whatever orders he had been left with, Cor couldn't work as efficiently as they could. Better that he keep his feet on the ground and his eyes open while saving as many lives as he could.

" _Anyone have a visual on Iris Amicitia?"_  Gladiolus' voice asked over the radio.

Cor pulled his sword free from an MT, leaping back as the energy inside sparked free. Monica and Dustin were meant to be with Iris. "Lieutenant Elshett, report."

He ran through another two MTs waiting for a response.

"Lieutenant Ackers?" Cor tried.

As if this night needed to be worse.

" _We're on the way, Marshal. We'll find them,"_ Gladio said.

Hopefully they would find them both alive, but Cor had his doubts. He could spend all night worrying about the people who would give their lives before dawn came. It would get him nowhere.


	42. Noctis, Looking for Iris

He didn't want to turn his back on his own sister to go chasing after Iris, but Gladio had a point: Reina had magic, ten years of combat experience—which hadn't actually happened, but whatever, she was using it anyway—and the Ring of the Lucii. Iris was fifteen and had two Crownsguards protecting her while the city was going to shit. One of them needed help more.

It would take an hour on foot. But the Regalia was just begging to be put to use again, so they did. The drive was a little less pleasant than their too-short road trip across Lucis.

"Don't stop for anything, Iggy," Gladio said.

"I shall do my best."

Prompto stood up in his seat and took shots at the MTs and daemons they passed. Gladio had a little less range, but Ignis' driving brought them close enough to take off a few mechanical limbs here and there. Damn things were creepy as hell. Worse than the daemons. At least he expected the daemons to be inhuman, but these things… weren't there people inside?

More than once, Ignis was forced to take a detour when the road was blocked. Gladio tried Iris' phone more than once without getting anything but he still refused to give it up. Noct understood. They all had family in tight places. No one knew where Clarus was and Ignis hadn't seen his uncle since they had left for the crystal. Apparently Noct's family was taking on General Glauca. Not exactly the safest place to be, but where was, right now?

The Regalia skidded to a halt outside Gladio's house. Gladio was out over the door before the wheels stopped turning and Noct followed after. The faster they got Iris somewhere safe the faster they could get back and help Rei.

The door was hanging off the hinges. Not a great first sign, to be honest.

Gladio put his back to the wall and crept inside, trying to keep a low profile. Noctis ducked in after him with Prompto following and Ignis picking up the rear. Inside was a mess: furniture overturned, upholstery sliced with claw marks, doors bashed open. They followed the trail of destruction up the stairs; Noctis held his breath and chose where to put his feet. It was hard to find a spot that didn't crunch of creak or wobble when the ceiling was on the ground. What the fuck had come through here?

The radio that Gladio had borrowed—on a permanent basis—from one of the Crownsguards was alive with cross chatter; he had the volume on high enough to hear, but too low to be obtrusive. It echoed in the silent house. Gladio reached down and flicked it off entirely.

But the radio chatter didn't disappear.

"What's that?" Prompto flattened against a wall and looked in the direction of the sound. It was too dark to see anything—all the lights were off—but the distinctive sound of voices crackling over a radio was coming from down the hall.

"The radio of one of the lieutenants, I imagine," Ignis said.

Gladio silenced them with a sharp motion. They crept toward the sound.

Around the corner, they found it—an earpiece radio like the ones Cor and some of the other Crownsguard officers wore. No one was around it. Not even a body. Well. That was almost a good sign. Ignis picked it up and they kept moving.

The trail led to Iris' door. Outside was a pile of MTs—lifeless. The door itself was shut, but there was a giant hole in the top half and a few smaller ones around it—like someone had been firing bullets through the opening.

Gladio pushed Noct against the wall before he could step in front.

"Iris?" Gladio called.

For a second Noct thought no one was there. But maybe it just took that long to register.

"Gladdy?" Iris' voice came from inside.

In the hall, the four of them breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"Yeah," Gladio said. "We're coming in, alright?"

He pushed the door open—it took all of his bulk to shove aside the desk propped up against the other side of it. Inside, Iris' room was as much of a mess than the rest of the house. Maybe more of a mess. The wide window that opened over the back gardens was shattered inward and glass was strewn across the floor. Iris' bed was pushed up to rest on one side, creating a barrier between the window and wall, and in the corner, sheltered by two walls and the bed, Iris and Monica sat, both holding Crownsguard-issue guns. Dustin lay nearby, one side of his head all bloody. He wasn't moving; Noct couldn't tell if he was breathing.

"Gladdy!" Iris leapt to her feet and into Gladio's arms.

Ignis went to Dustin and, after a moment, announced that he was still alive—barely. They managed to scrounge up something for Noct to make a potion out of and at least got him stable. It looked like whatever had hit him upside the head had also shattered his radio. No wonder they hadn't responded.

Everyone had questions they wanted answered, but it wasn't too hard to agree this wasn't a great place to do that. They left together; Gladio and Ignis managed to carry Dustin down and put him in the Regalia. It was going to be a hell of a fit trying to get seven people in the car. Four was enough.

They ended up not needing to.

"Uh, guys—we got company!" Prompto drew their eyes upward.

Great. More MTs. Just what they needed.

"Quickly! Into the car." Specs was great at giving instructions and then not following them. He did that now.

The MTs dropped in rank and file. Of course Ignis was standing in just the right spot to be cut off from the car by that. He backed up as line after line of MTs fell, grabbing Iris around the waist and pulling her back before they landed on her head.

Astrals. There must have been fifty of them! And—aw hell—that wasn't all.

A giant metal container dropped beside them. One side fell open and more of that black mist from before poured out of it—right before a giant fucking tentacle.

Noctis gritted his teeth and swung for the nearest MT, cutting through it in one strike. A bullet from Prompto caught one in the chest, but it kept moving until Monica shot at it as well. Gladio cut clean through one from top to bottom, turning it into metal pulp on the pavement. But it didn't seem to matter how many they cut down. More kept coming. And Noct sure didn't like the look of those tentacles.

"Go!" Ignis shouted. "We will meet you among the other Crownsguards in the square."

"No way!" Gladio took out another MT as he yelled. "I'm not leaving Iris alone, again."

"I swear I will keep her safe." Ignis was already backing away with Iris behind him. "We will cut through the alley and avoid the bulk of the fighting."

He was right. They were never going to fight through all these MTs between them. Shit.

Noct yanked the door to the driver's seat open. "Don't you  _dare_ die on me, Specs!"

"I will do my absolute best, Your Highness."

"Gladio, get in." Noct dropped into the driver's seat and turned the key. Prompto and Monica fired off shots over his head.

"I'm  _not_ leaving her," Gladio growled.

"I said  _get in the car_." Noct turned to look at him. "And that's an order."


	43. Regis, In the Upper Levels

Through the myriad windows they passed, Regis watched death fall from the sky. The imperial fleet had come to unleash their grim cargo upon Insomnia—now the skies rained MTs and daemons with no Wall to hold them back.

And it was night. Niflheim hardly needed to supply their own daemons. Left as it was, the Crown City would fall, regardless. They had nowhere near the forces necessary to protect all of their citizens from this threat.

From what Regis could see, this was the end for Lucis. Reina might destroy Drautos, but it did little good in the long run. Aldercapt had fled. In all likelihood he was already safe among his daemons and constructs. Even if every Crownsguard and every remaining Kingsglaive in the city had been dedicated to finding him, chances that they would succeed were dismal.

Insomnia would fall in spite of their best efforts and he was worthless against this threat. Reina had sent him away. She should have let him remain at her side. The irony was not lost on him.

Ravus had dragged him from the treaty room and through the halls. In spite of his brooding nature and seething hatred of Regis, it was clear he had little idea of where he was going. Regis gleaned—albeit with great trouble—that Ravus meant to lead them back to the upper floors, where Luna had been left before the signing began. More difficult than getting information out of Ravus, was trying to hint at the correct direction without appearing to tell him, because Gods forbid that his pride be injured when the whole damn city was dying outside.

By the time they reached the elevator, Regis was nearly as weary of Ravus as Ravus was of him. In all likelihood, he had half agreed to take Regis in the first place because he couldn't operate the lift on his own.

Regis unlocked it. And they ascended in tense silence.

At the top, Lunafreya was waiting in the lounge. She rose immediately; her expression was carefully schooled, but she was worried underneath. He would have been more surprised if she had been unconcerned—locked away at the top of the city, knowing that everything had gone wrong but not knowing how or why or what could be done to fix it.

Now there were three of them to do much the same thing.

He had little information to give her, but he filled in as much as he could. And he tried not to make it sound as hopeless as it was. If it came to that, he could get her and her brother out, at least.

"The emperor will flee to wherever he can be seen," Ravus said, without preamble. "Your guards have killed most of his and he left on foot—I highly doubt that he has the capability to contact them at all. If your…  _Crownsguards_ cover high ground and open spaces, they may yet intercept him."

Regis' eyebrows came together in the middle. "Surely he must only meet with one of the thousands of Magitek soldiers that have been dropped on us."

"He has no direct control over them," Ravus said. "They take orders and they carry them out without thought or remorse—they can be redirected once deployed, but he never had any reason to hold that clearance."

"And you?" Regis asked. "Have you the ability to control them?"

"Yes," he said. "Should they cross my path. But  _I_ have been instructed to protect  _you_. And  _you are wasting time_."

Was it a waste to learn about an—albeit questionable—ally with the ability to control their enemy's army?

Regis thrust his hand into his trouser pocket and pulled out his phone. Cor's number was on the home screen. He tapped the icon, pressed the phone to his ear, and waited.

He counted the rings, unable to help himself.

It went to voicemail.

He dialed again. And again.

They called him the Immortal for a reason, damn it! He couldn't be dead.

On the fourth try, the line clicked.

" _Your Majesty—"_

Thank the Gods.

" _No luck on the emperor's trail, yet, but—"_

"Cor," Regis interrupted, "I have information that Aldercapt may try to make for any place in the city where he might draw the attention of the ships overhead—concentrate your search on open areas and high ground."

" _The warehouses."_

The packing houses and industrial facilities in the southwest were both the highest point in the city, ground-level wise, and arguably the most open.

"See it done—and Cor?"

" _Your Majesty?"_

"Please see that your head remains attached to your body."

" _It's not my neck I'm worried about, Your Majesty."_

Ravus grabbed Regis' arm and jerked him forward; he stepped reflexively and landed on his bad leg. His phone went flying and his cane came down too slowly. It was the third time in the past twenty-four hours that he had been on his knees. Regis gritted his teeth through the pain; kings weren't meant to kneel so often. At least this time he managed to keep hold of his cane.

Behind him, Ravus drew his blade and ran it through a daemon before the beast was through materializing. But it was far from alone. The air all around swam with miasma and half a dozen others had crawled from the tile floor. Lunafreya was at Regis' side, helping him to his feet. Much as he appreciated the effort, she should have been watching the daemons, instead.

Vigilant Ravus might have been, but he could not keep hold on so many. Only one slipped past him—at first—but it was enough. It flew at them, claws reaching and grasping, and nearly caught Luna's arm with a swipe.

Regis threw a barrier up between them. The daemon crashed harmlessly into the outside before others joined it. They seemed to attract more of their brethren—where one went, dozens followed until the royal quarters were crawling with them.

He gritted his teeth and—with the help of his cane and Lunafreya's arm—managed to regain his footing. His barrier crept around them, forming a full sphere against the swarming daemons. It was more difficult to throw magic beyond it, but it wasn't impossible. And, with the Wall off his shoulders, he could just manage.

Lightning leapt through their ranks, chaining between daemons and connecting them in a massive network of unholy fairy lights. He diverted it around Ravus, and Ravus was wise enough to keep his blade well away from any of them. When Regis released his hold on the magic, they fell, charred and smoking, leaving the air smelling vaguely of burned and rotted flesh.

As Regis dropped his shield, Ravus turned to look at them—Regis no worse for his fall and Luna half behind him where he had unconsciously ushered her in the face of danger. For a moment, it looked as if Ravus would find some way to pin this unfortunate occurrence on Regis, as well.

But he merely looked at Lunafreya. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," she said.

And then, grudgingly, forcing out each word as if they were physically painful, he looked to Regis and said, "Thank you for protecting my sister."

"Contrary to your belief, Commander, I do not—and have never—desired any harm to befall your family," Regis said.

It was a difficult pill to swallow. But at least it was set before him. That was all Regis could do.


	44. Ignis, with Iris

The MTs and daemons poured in and the Regalia rolled away. Half the MTs turned to follow the car. The other half turned toward Ignis and Iris. It would have been comforting to say he had been in worse situations but just then he couldn't think of one.

No time for that now.

"This way." He ushered Iris down the street and they ducked off the main road, searching for a way to circle back around.

He could have been more familiar with the area. He would have been considerably more at ease if he had clearer memories of this neighborhood. If they got out of this alive with Insomnia intact, he was memorizing every street map he could acquire. For now he ran, hand-in-hand with Iris, as fast as her legs would carry her.

"Wait—" She pulled back, turning toward a branching street. "This way to the Citadel."

Of course. Why hadn't he considered the fact that this was Iris' neighborhood? She knew the ins and outs, even if he did not.

He bowed to her superior knowledge. She led and he followed, and they made progress; the tri-towers of the Citadel rose up in the distance, oddly dark without the light from the crystal projecting the Wall. But they weren't alone in the deserted neighborhood.

It was still unsettling to see the black daemonic mist swirling up in columns and the creatures that crawled out from within. Insomnia had always been a safe haven. For it to be anything else was wrong. If the street had been wider, they might have cut around without engaging. But they were still among the houses and passing out of the richer district into a neighborhood where homes pressed close together.

"Stand clear, Iris." Ignis drew his knives. Iris made a sound of affirmative and Ignis dove in. Three daemons. He could handle three on his own.

He cut across the first one in a series of rapid, parallel strikes, leaving streaks of black goo on his blades and opponent. Fighting while keeping half an eye on someone else was old hat. Noctis couldn't have kept his nose out of trouble if it reeked of fish.

On second thought, that was a poor metaphor. This was Noct, after all.

But at least Noctis was armed with a sword and magic. And he wasn't fifteen anymore. Ignis resolved to keep a whole eye on Iris and spared only one for the daemons.

She followed his instructions to the T, keeping out of sight, but when she did catch the attention of one daemon, she dodged nimbly, drawing it a little farther out.

"Iris—" Ignis struck hard and fast, shoving his opponent off his blade so that he could take to her side.

He might have spared himself the trouble.

"Don't worry about me, Ignis." Iris shot him a grin, ducked to avoid a swiping claw, and dropped to sweep the daemon's legs out from under it. Then she pushed up and brought her heel down right on what might have been called its throat, had it been any more human-shaped. The only sound it made was a wet gurgle as black ichor welled from its throat.

Ignis stopped.

She dusted herself off and smiled. "Didn't think my dad would let me off easy, just because I'm a girl, did you?"

But of course. She was an Amicitia. And she was Clarus' daughter, through and through.

"Hey, Ignis. You there?"

His shirt pocket was speaking in Noctis' voice. He had all but forgotten that he had picked up Monica's radio inside the house and dropped it into his breast pocket. It seemed it was still functional. He fitted it on his ear and tapped the button.

"Here and very much alive, Noct. Iris is taking excellent care of me."

Iris laughed.

"Uh. Right. Well, we're on our way into the square, so hurry up."

"Of course," Ignis said. "And Noctis?"

"Yeah?"

"Please do not drive and speak on the radio at the same time."

"Do they know where Dad is?" Iris asked.

Ignis relayed. While neither Noct nor the others with him had any idea of Clarus' whereabouts, the frequency they were using was open to the rest of the Crownsguard as well. And someone knew.

"He was on the treaty room floor out cold when I left," said Cor's voice. "Don't use this frequency for chatter."

Not the most reassuring answer, but it could have been worse. The information only seemed to steel Iris' resolve, however. Her jaw tightened and her fists clenched.

"What're we waiting for, then? Let's get going!"


	45. Ignis, Being a Crownsguard

Arguably, Iris was a better ally to have at his back than Noctis. There was the simple fact that she listened and followed directions, for one. And, while she didn't have as much experience as Noct did, she had evidently devoted herself fully to what combat lessons she had received in her scant fifteen years. She was, after all, an Amicitia.

Following the first encounter, Ignis worried less about her. She was excellent at keeping out of the way and did quite well, given that she was unarmed, even when conflict was unavoidable. They made good time through the streets, avoiding MTs and daemons as often as they were able. Full night had fallen by then, though the city was never truly dark. It seemed impossible: while Magitek engines blazed overhead and MTs marched through the streets, some places were, as of yet, untouched. Even so, they were never unaware of the present dangers. The daemons avoided the flood of streetlights, but keeping to the shadows ensured greater cover against MTs. Either way they had a fight on their hands.

They were just reaching the main street—a sharp turn would bring them back to the Citadel to reunite with Noct and the others—when Cor's voice sounded over the radio.

" _All available units converge on the southern warehouses. Be on your guard, the emperor may be nearby."_

Ignis hesitated. Hand of the Heir he may have been, but he was still a Crownsguard. And the marshal's instructions left no room for 'if's, 'and's, or 'but's. Which was more important: returning to the Citadel or taking Emperor Aldercapt into custody?

They were mere blocks from the warehouses. All he had to do was turn the opposite direction. And time was of the essence.

"This way." Ignis caught Iris' arm and changed their course.

"Huh?"

"Change of plan." He reached up to tap the transmitter on his radio. "Affirmative, Marshal. Diverting toward the warehouses now."

" _Don't you dare take my sister into that!"_ Gladio's voice responded.

Yes, he was bound to disagree.

" _What's your location, Scientia?"_

"We are at the south end of Caelum Street," Ignis said.

A pause. Then: " _That makes you the closest. Proceed with caution; Gods know what you'll find up there. Maybe nothing."_

" _Marshal, he's got Iris with him!"_ Gladio shouted.

" _You have your orders, Scientia; carry them out,"_ Cor said.

"Yes, Sir." Ignis kicked into a brisk jog. "Come, Iris! There is no time to waste."

"Where to?" She asked.

"To apprehend Emperor Aldercapt, if we are extraordinarily lucky."

Her eyes widened and she stumbled a step. Ignis, still holding onto her arm, caught her and pulled her upright again.

"The emperor?" Her voice cracked on the way out. "Why?"

"He must have escaped from the signing. If I were Princess Reina, I would want a powerful bargaining chip to turn this around." He gestured to the skies, which were thick with imperial ships. "Quickly now. Save your breath for the run."

Caelum street ended at the end of the residential zone, just as the ground began to slope steeply upward into the industrial area. The rise was so steep that the road switch-backed up to the top. On foot it would be faster to cut across. Not easier, but they had no time for that now.

They might as well make Iris a full Crownsguard after this was over.  _If_ this was over. He tried not to think about the alternatives, just as he tried not to think about what had become of Reina after she had left the crystal chamber, or how Noctis was faring without him.

It was best to focus on the climb.

He boosted Iris up over the retaining wall at the base before vaulting after. The hillside was thick with brush and unkempt greenery—not a landscaped park, but merely what happened to earth when it was left to its own devices in a moderately damp environment. They trudged through it. Bushes caught on his sleeves and Iris' skirt—not precisely the best attire for this sort of activity—but he tried to strike a balance between the most direct route to the top and the one that took them through the fewest thorny plants.

Too soon, Ignis' breath burned in his chest and his legs began to ache from the climb. Iris clutched her side and winced with every other step. The pushed onward, though the city lights faded away below and every step they took on uneven ground became more treacherous. They couldn't afford to catch their breath; if the emperor was truly at the top, they had no way of knowing for how long. Insomnia had scant chance for survival without a powerful hostage.

When they did reach the top, Ignis hardly registered it. He very nearly tumbled straight over the guard rail that separated the slope from the pavement beyond, but he caught himself and halted Iris before she could make the same mistake. And they stood, gasping so hard for air that they must have been audible at the bottom of the slope.

The lights from the warehouses, factories, and packing facilities flooded great open swaths of pavement. The space was meant to accommodate a small fleet of delivery trucks maneuvering around each other. It appeared the empty space was large enough to land a Magitek engine or two, as well.

Ignis grabbed Iris' arm and pulled her down until they both crouched in the bushes behind the guard rail. Chances were, in the dark, they wouldn't be spotted. But it was always better safe than sorry.

"Marshal." He dropped his voice to a whisper when he activated his radio again. "Magitek engine at the east end of the plateau. No visual on the emperor, but I do see a small army of MTs."

The pause dragged on.

Finally: " _Numbers?"_

"At least fifty of them, Sir."

" _Hold your position. Report any changes."_

"Affirmative, Marshal."

Ignis crept along the outside of the rail with Iris shadowing him. If they were meant to stand watch, they would require a more secure location. Then it was merely a matter of praying that the others arrived before the ships took flight with the emperor on board. If he was even present.


	46. Ardyn, Enjoying the Show

Insomnia, all ablaze with death and destruction, made the perfect backdrop for her battle of vengeance.

Glauca flew. She leapt. They darted across the dark sky in streams of magenta and blue. He crashed into buildings, hoping to slow her down, but she kept on his trail like a shark upon blood. Perhaps it  _had_ hurt when she had slammed into that reinforced window and shattered the whole room with her—rather insubstantial—body weight. But what was a little pain while she was on the  _hunt_?

She was as a woman possessed, single-minded in her purpose and utterly dedicated, regardless of the consequences to herself. Eventually she  _did_ realize her city was still in danger, though. Or perhaps she had known all along and simply didn't care. Ardyn still had no clear concept of what was going on inside her head. But he knew she displayed remarkable similarity to him, and he therefore based all further hypotheses on his own proclivities.

He wouldn't have protected the city, of course. He wouldn't have given an ounce of strength to Somnus' fool brood that dwelled inside the ring, let alone enough to tear them out of the In-Between and root them in reality once more in defense of some ignorant wretches who would only blame the resulting mess on him.

Ah, but she was young still. Not as young as she looked, but merely a child in the wider scheme of things.

And so she did.

Glauca landed inside what had once been an office building, but was now little more than a battleground—for he and she, anyway. This time she followed him in through the hole he made, rather than making her own. It was probably for the best. Ardyn crawled in through the darkness, harnessing the miasma that hung thick throughout the city to sweep him along.

Once her feet were on the ground, the little Dreamer reached out to the In-Between. She took hold of every Lucii that had been carved in stone and set in the Old Wall and dragged them back to the physical world. Ardyn felt them wake in their statue-tombs, where they were imprisoned in stone instead of in limbo. He  _felt_ them wake before he heard the stone cracking across the city.

_Somnus_. How unfortunate that he hadn't learned to stay dead.

Then again…

It would be much more fun to kill him again.

"Oh little  _Drea-mer…_ " Ardyn strung out her name and turned it into a tune. Miraculously, she actually heard him over the sound of her glaive clashing with Glauca's armor.

She turned to look at him. Rabbit took the opportunity to leap back out the window, making another hole. Tsk. Who was going to clean all this glass up?

"I wouldn't  _dream_ of telling you what to do… but you might consider getting a handle on the daemons before they wreck your pretty little city." He paused. Then smiled. "Unless of course you don't care."

In which case. Well. That was her business, wasn't it?

He laughed and drew the miasma up around him, wrapping up and letting it drag him away once more. He had a very important date to keep. A discussion two millennia overdue.

"Enjoy your revenge, little Dreamer…" He said. "I know I will."


	47. Cor, at the Warehouses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is getting out of hand. I apologize for all the late chapters recently. Life has been getting busy and I keep forgetting to post them. I have now set reminders for myself to post chapters. That should fix it.

Cor had requisitioned a car. No, it wasn't his, nor was he sure who it belonged to, but he had bigger concerns. Likely the owner of the car did, too.

The rain of MTs had more or less ceased. They were all in the city by now. Cor hit several on his way south—enough of them that he lost count. He left the city behind and began the climb up to the industrial level. The farther up he drove, the more of the city he could see in his mirrors. Crawling with MTs and imperials alike.

Reina better not have gotten into anything stupid without him. The only radio contact he had with the city was over the Crownsguard frequency. Regis had called his phone, but said nothing of her. She wouldn't have left her father's side. Not willingly at least. Then again, neither would Cor. And here he was, halfway across the city and hoping she had some plan to drag them out of this hellhole.

He caught a streak of light out of the corner of his eye—more magenta than the crimson of the Magitek engines. He wasn't certain what it was until the streak of blue followed after it.

Drautos.

So he had left the Citadel. And Reina was on his tail. So much for staying with Regis. She should have been more than a match for Drautos. What was she playing at? Was it so important to make him suffer?

Cor kept half an eye cocked in their direction while he followed the road. He could only see them when they moved—and it seemed they were moving in the same direction he was, though it was difficult to tell from so far away. Both lights struck a building and disappeared for a time. Cor's borrowed car climbed another switch back.

Before he caught sight of them again, Ignis' voice was on the radio, confirming at least one of their fears—that the imperials had landed, presumably for the purpose of recovering what few survivors of the signing they could. Ignis and Iris versus fifty MTs. Cor was still ahead of the rest of the Crownsguard, but they couldn't wait.

Another flash of blue arced in his mirror. For a moment he thought it was Reina, but more followed—those were the Kingsglaives, diverting course toward Cor. Amidst the increasing number of warps across the sky, he lost track of Reina and Drautos.

He could only trust that she would do her duty, as she had trusted him to do his. He focused on the road.

When it finally leveled out and opened into the industrial zone, he turned south as per Ignis' directions, shutting his lights off and coasting as quietly as he was able. He caught sight of the Magitek engines first, when the buildings to his right fell off and allowed for a line of sight. He hit the brakes and killed the engine. That was them. Now to find Ignis.

Instructions over the radio indicated that he should continue to follow the guardrail south so he did. Other chatter said reinforcements were drawing closer—Crownsguard and Kingsglaive alike.

He found Ignis and Iris standing as close as they could get to the imperials without leaving the cover of darkness. A brief conference confirmed what he already knew: that the MTs hadn't moved from their neat rows, and only one human—an armored man whom they didn't recognize—had been seen coming out of the ship. At least the imperials didn't appear to be in any immediate hurry to leave the city. That seemed to imply that they were still waiting—

The city trembled.

From around Insomnia, the crack of stone split the air, as if the wall around the perimeter of the city was falling down.

Instead it came to life.

Each of the twelve statues that lined the original wall around the Crown City woke, pulling free from their foundations. The closest to the warehouses was a few hundred feet away and when it straightened it stood half as tall as that distance. The statue of The Wise unfurled a dozen wings and stretched, as if hundreds of years set in stone had made his muscles stiff. Farther along, on the far side of the industrial zone in the corner of the wall, The Rogue cracked her neck and tested the weight of her shuriken.

"By all that is holy…" Ignis whispered. "She has activated the Old Wall."

It must have been centuries since the last time the souls of the old kings had woken in the Wall. No one had expected to see it again—not while Regis reigned. He could never have supplied enough energy to command it.

Shouts from the Magitek engine:

"What the hell was  _that?_ "

"They have activated the Old Wall, Your Imperial Majesty."

Cor's head snapped back in the direction of the craft. And there he was. Aldercapt, right where they had expected to find him. He had been in the ship all along. So why were the imperials still grounded?

" _Blast_ —" Aldercapt swore. "Take us out of this accursed city immediately."

"The others—"

"Are dead, or as good as. Bring in the weapons and raze Insomnia to the ground. I  _will_ have the crystal and the ring." Aldercapt was turning back toward the ship.

"Our time is up," Cor said. He tapped his radio and stepped over the guardrail, into the light on the edge of the parking lot. "All units be advised: the emperor is at the eastern warehouses. Repeat: the emperor is at the warehouses. We are moving in."

A series of affirmatives responded over the radio, while Cor advanced with Ignis and Iris at his heel. They were charging an army of MTs with only himself, one Crownsguard, and a fifteen year old. He had seen worse odds.

Alright, he hadn't. But they were gambling for Insomnia and he couldn't afford not to take the risk.

"Keep them grounded." Cor drew his blade. "Whatever it takes!"

He heard Ignis' affirmative and—a moment later—Iris' just before he clashed with the first MT in line. The others had already turned.

"Kill them," Aldercapt said, unconcerned, as he turned back toward the Magitek engine.

Cor cut through the first MT, then the second, then the third, never pausing in between. He dragged one of their bodies between himself and the incoming fire as the others let loose their bullets, then pulled his sword free and ran a fourth one through. The number of soldiers between himself and the emperor hardly seemed to diminish, even as the pile at his feet grew.

Something flew over his head in an arc and landed at the mouth of the Magitek engine. It must have been glass because it shattered on impact and, when it did, lightning exploded from inside. Sparks arced across the ground, forcing the emperor back and cutting off his path to safety.

"Nice throw," Cor called back to Ignis.

"Thank you, Marshal!"

Cor redoubled his efforts as the emperor hesitated, caught between the results of Ignis' elemental flask and the MTs behind him. The magic wouldn't last forever. If those reinforcements didn't arrive soon they were shit out of luck. He couldn't keep this engine grounded on his own.

The night around them began to stir.

Damn. How the hell had he forgotten about the daemons?

Must have gotten lost between the empty soldiers and the monstrosities that Niflheim had been dropping from their ships in metal crates—massive beasts that even now were tearing into buildings across Insomnia. The smaller creatures who crept naturally from the shadows had slipped his mind. Until now, when they were three against an army and any size of daemon could tip the balance against them. Hell, the balance was already against them.

Most daemons he knew of still looked a bit human or animal. These ones were amorphous as if they were made entirely of that black liquid that seeped from daemons in place of blood. They oozed toward his exposed back as Cor struggled to push past the MTs and reach the emperor. When they grew too close, he spun and hurled an MTs into their midst.

The imperials seemed to have some manner of control over daemons—they were, after all, unloading them onto the city. He wasn't even sure if the slime-daemons would even attack an MT.

They did.

It didn't make a sound but the crunch of metal and the twitch of electricity as the closest daemon consumed it. And it didn't even begin to slow their progress.

Beyond the lines of MTs, the magic from Ignis' flask was beginning to fade.

"Any more of those, Ignis?" Cor called.

"Just one." Ignis pulled a flask from the air—it materialized in the blue light of borrowed magic—and passed it to Cor. "Best save it for an opportune moment."

And they had seconds to reach Aldercapt before he escaped.

Cor tucked the flask away and surged forward, shouldering MTs aside. It was a stupid position to put himself in—straight through the middle of their forces until he was surrounded—but there was still a chance it could pay off. Barely.

The daemons reached the edge of the MTs, who had turned all turned toward Cor. Maybe they had judged the daemons not to be a threat or maybe they were taking a gamble, just like him. It didn't pay off for them.

Each of the daemons reared up, stretching to become taller and thinner until they could reach out and engulf one MT each. Red lightning leapt from the robotic bodies as they fell, crumpling to the ground. And the daemons moved forward, carving a steady path into the MTs.

Ignis pushed Iris behind his back, searching for a safer path through the MTs and away from the daemons. Nothing opened up. He bared his knives, cutting an MT in half before its blade could come down on his head, and faced the daemons while Iris covered his back. But when the daemons reached him, they slid straight past and devoured the MTs beside him.

It took that long before Cor understood:

Reina.

Reina could control the daemons, couldn't she? She had done it last night. Why not now? Why not employ them as her own army?

The lightning at the mouth of the Magitek engine stopped crackling. Aldercapt surged forward. No time to wonder about daemons and magic and Reina's unnatural powers.

"Ignore the daemons," Cor shouted. "If he escapes everything is over."

"Iris—" Ignis called.

Cor turned in time to see him take her hands and launch her directly overhead. She spun midair like a diver preparing to hit the water. Instead she landed, hands first, on Aldercapt's shoulders and dragged him to the ground.

Cor had wasted precious time by diverting his attention from the battle. A spray of bullets caught his left arm and the side of his chest. It only felt like pressure—a sudden lurch of his body from the projectiles passing through and then hot, wet blood dripping down his arm and side.

It would be better if he didn't wait for his brain to catch up with reality and register the pain. He lifted his sword again and plunged it through the nearest MT and out the other side. When he jerked it free, the MT fell limp at his feet. They were still surrounding him—his own damn fault—but if he positioned himself just right and kept his eyes where they were supposed to be, he might avoid getting gunned down.

He ducked behind an MT and felt its body recoil as bullets struck it instead of him. His arm began to burn. It spread through his bicep, up to his shoulder and down to his fingertips until he couldn't tell where it was coming from anymore. He gritted his teeth against the pain and shoved his sword through the MT's back.

This would have been an excellent time for those reinforcements to show up.


	48. Regis, Joining Forces

They idled.

Regis paced in spite of the pain in his knee and the ever-present exhaustion that hadn't shattered with the Wall. And each time he passed by the windows he saw Insomnia in chaos below.

He trusted Reina. He trusted her to do what needed to be done in the face of this threat. He tried to trust that she had made the correct decision by sparing his life and collapsing the Wall for a second time. But Gods damn it all, no matter how efficient she may have been, no matter how much magic she may have wielded, every king—or queen—needed allies. He had not protected Lucis all these years on his own, nor had his father before him, but that was precisely what she had been trying to do for the past two days.

"Have you the power of command over these Magitek soldiers?" Regis stopped abruptly and rounded on Ravus. "You sit idle while Insomnia falls. Do you stand with Lucis or not?"

Ravus scoffed. "I do not stand  _with Lucis._ "

"With my daughter, then," Regis said.

His lack of response indicated an affirmative.

"I know not what she has offered you in return for your service, but she will have difficulty following through if she does not survive until dawn."

"You imagine she is unfit for the challenge?" Ravus asked, mocking. "She has the Ring of the Lucii and more. No one could harm her."

"Save for herself," Regis said.

A pause. Hesitation? Or confusion?

He pressed on. "Do you truly believe the power within the ring comes without cost? Every ounce that she uses, she pays for with her own lifeblood. For every second that she uses its power—at this level—her life is one hour shorter. Even then, she can only give so much without pause. Heed me, Commander; if this threat to the city is not dispelled some other way, then Reina will use all of the strength in her body to see that it is."

Still, Ravus hesitated, and Regis could only guess what thoughts passed behind that steel face.

"What reason has she given you to stand with her?" Regis didn't truly expect an answer, but perhaps—

Though he remained silent, Ravus' eyes flicked toward Lunafreya, as if unconsciously.

So that was the dilemma: he wished to protect Luna and both paths endangered her life. If Regis lost his life, so, too, would Luna. Now Regis sought to assure him that if Reina died, so, too, would Luna. He stood on precious little bargaining ground. It seemed, in fact, less assured that Luna would be in danger if Reina was gone.

Nevertheless:

"If you cannot look after yourself in the city then Reina will die." Ravus stepped toward the lift, abruptly. "Open this."

Regis hastened to do so. Behind him, Luna also stepped forward.

Ravus rounded on her. "No. You will remain here."

"I cannot sit idle while Insomnia burns!" Luna said.

"You can and you will," Ravus said. "Perhaps you will beseech your precious Gods to send their aid and douse the fires."

The lift doors slid open. Ravus stepped in and Regis followed after him.

"Please…" She looked at Regis, pleading.

He understood the pain of helplessness. He also understood the need to protect.

"Be safe, my dear."

The elevator doors closed with Lunafreya locked safely—for the moment—on the top levels of the Citadel. Silence stretched awkwardly between Ravus and Regis as the lift descended. When they reached the ground floor, it was deserted: the Crownsguard sought the emperor while the MTs flooded the streets. From outside, they could hear screams punctuating the gunfire.

Ravus led the way. "Keep up, old man."

Regis held his tongue. Many years, indeed, it had been since someone thought to take that tone with him. But he had rather more pressing concerns than rank and respect. He followed. The metallic clank of his knee brace echoed through the empty halls with every step, punctuated by the click of his cane. The pain in his leg had long since passed from dull throb to sharp sting with every hint of pressure. If Reina had been with him, she would have had a choice word or two for his pacing.

Reina.

Gods, he hoped she was alright. He hoped he would have a chance to repair all of his mistakes.

They left the Citadel and found MTs just outside the doors, patrolling. The soldiers turned immediately, guns raised and glowing red eyes focused.

"Hold." Ravus stepped in front of him. "Lower your weapons; the king is mine."

It took a breath of time for them to comply and Regis didn't inhale until no guns were trained on him.

"How many are in the city?" Regis asked.

" _Silence._  If you prefer your tongue attached, you will keep it still," Ravus snapped.

A question he ought to have asked before: precisely how much did a Magitek soldier understand about its surroundings? Did it have the capability to report peculiar or suspicious behavior? Was it monitored at all times?

It was too late to ask now.

Ravus swept down the steps and Regis followed. The MTs at the Citadel doors trailed after, forming a line behind him. Their weapons remained at the ready.

They moved down the street into the square. Bodies littered the pavement among the barricades where the crowd had been standing during the signing. Some of them were MTs. Some of them were his people.

With each live Magitek soldier they passed, the force surrounding Regis grew. Clarus would have had a fit if he could have seen Regis now. Except Clarus remained in the treaty room and though he had been breathing when Regis left, there was no guarantee that he still lived. This was a path Regis had to walk without his faithful Shield and adviser. If they could spare lives and give the city a fighting chance, it would be worth it.

Giant Magitek machines prowled the streets, mechanical heads scanning their surroundings. MTs patrolled in groups throughout the city. And in every patch of shadow between streetlights, daemons spawned. The Crownsguards were gone—presumably following Cor's orders to hunt down the emperor—which left civilians running from daemons and imperials alike. Ravus turned his Magitek soldiers on each daemon that crossed their paths, which left the streets marginally safer.

Marginally.

Alas, they were still afoot, strolling the city street by street and picking up MTs as they passed. Insomnia was too large for one man to cover on foot in a single night. The venture seemed less worthwhile and more futile from up close.

They were in the heart of downtown Insomnia with a full hundred MTs under Ravus' command when lights soared overhead. First red—crashing into the skyscraper twenty stories above—then blue, close behind.

"Reina…" Regis breathed.

Ravus halted and followed his gaze. In the dark, with the whole building lifeless, they could see the flash of light when Reina called her elemancy and threw lightning. So Drautos still lived. That Magitek armor must have been the only reason he had stood so long against her. More importantly, Reina was alive.

And she hadn't forgotten about the Old Wall.

He could feel her magic hum in the air, first tugging at the strings to check their strength, then pulling hard enough to tear a dozen souls of Lucian monarchs from their deathless purgatory and thrust them back into the physical world.

The ground shook when the Conqueror woke no more than two blocks from them and pulled himself free from the stonework of Insomnia's foundation. Regis stumbled and Ravus—begrudgingly—caught his arm.

"Will they attack us?" Ravus asked.

That depended entirely on the manner of orders that Reina had given them.

"I think not," Regis said. "Though the same does not extend to your empty friends."

Ravus shoved him back onto his own two feet and diverted their course down a side street, away from the wakened statue of the Conqueror; that was the extent of the response he dignified Regis with. It did seem that they were moving with some particular intent. Precisely what that was, Regis could only guess. Ravus was certainly not going to share it with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, just wanted to mention that Episode 3 of the Remnants audio drama is up on YouTube now. You can find here: https://youtu.be/5lD7lz3CmSo . It took ages to finish this one because we ended up having to recast Reina between Episode 2 and 3, which added like a month to the timline. Hopefully things will move more smoothly now!


	49. Noctis, on the Hunt

First there was Specs and Iris disappearing off in the wrong direction. Then they had managed to get Dustin somewhere safe—relatively—and drop Monica with the rest of the Crownsguards, but now every Crownsguard and Kingsglaive in the city was getting called off to chase after the emperor. Apparently that included Ignis, and Cor didn't give a shit whether or not Iris was with him, too. Obviously, Gladio was pissed. Noct would have been pissed, too, except his sister could take care of her own damn self. Maybe Iris could, too, but whatever.

The trouble wasn't that Gladio was pissed. It was that Gladio wanted to go with the Crownsguards now, and they had other work to do.

" _Noct!_  What's the hold up?!" Gladio was standing with one foot in the Regalia, holding the door open.

Yeah. He wasn't going to like this.

"We're not going after them," Noct said.

" _What?_ " He heard. He just wanted Noctis to say it again while staring down that glare.

"We're in the dead center of Insomnia," Noct said. "Specs and everyone else are going to hit the warehouses way before we could. If the emperor is there, they'll get him—or not—before we can even get out there. But while they're after the emperor, someone's got to get this damn MT army out of Insomnia."

"Oh yeah? How do you intend to do that?" Gladio scoffed.

"Ravus." Noct wrenched the driver's door open and dropped in behind the wheel. "Get in!"

Weird. Usually Gladio just smacked Noct with the flat side of his blade when Noct gave instructions. Granted, those instructions were usually 'go get me ice cream,' or 'stop hitting so hard,' but the point was that Gladio never backed down. Ever.

Except right now, apparently.

Noct threw the car into gear and they sped into the city. He wasn't really sure how to find Ravus or if Ravus was even alive—hadn't he been in the signing ceremony?—but the Crownsguard radio chatter said there were an awful lot of MTs patrolling downtown so that seemed as good a place as any to start. Soldiers had to have a commander somewhere, right? If all else failed they could just kill all the MTs they found and leave Niflheim's army a little smaller. Three against an army was basically even odds.

They made it out by dodging around a few of those big Magitek armor things—except, was it really armor if there was no one inside?—and began the search. Noct made a grid, taking as many streets between as he dared skip and hoping that wherever Ravus was, he wasn't moving fast. He tried to keep the map of the city in his head while he drove, but there were so many damn names. He ended up just counting streets and keeping the where fixed with visuals. The statue of the Conqueror up ahead was about halfway to Somnus Park—weird, because they should have put the Mystic over here next to his park, but he was over by the west gate where all those red streaks of light were flashing across the sky.

He  _also_ knew the statue of the Conqueror was not supposed to move.

Noctis slammed on the brakes. "Hey, uh… Prompto. Tell me that statue isn't moving."

"Uh…" Prompto stared dead ahead.

At the end of the block, the Conqueror King climbed off his pedestal with a great crack and shook a few persistent pigeons off his axe.

"Did you… uh… want me to lie?" Prompto asked.

"Ho-ly shit," Gladio said.

Yeah. That about summed things up.

"He's  _probably_ not going to crush us," Noct said. "I'm the Chosen King, right?"

"Right," said Prompto in an altogether unconvincing tone.

"Yeah, well, I think we're gonna have to find out." Gladio was standing up in his seat, leaning over with his hands on Prompto's seat.

He pointed ahead and, on the other side of the living statue near the far intersection, a massive force of MTs turned in the opposite direction. They were led by a familiar face all dressed in white and—

"Is that  _my dad?_ " Noctis stood up in his seat.

_Shit_. No one else walked like that. No one else could look so damn dignified while limping that bad.

He dropped back into his seat. "Hold on tight."

Noct had always known that the Regalia was one hell of a car, but always in the same distant fashion that he regarded most other things in his life. Sure, he was a prince, but mostly that just meant he couldn't go where he wanted to go when he wanted to. Same general concept. Yeah, she was a great car, but why did it matter if she could do zero to sixty in two point five if Cor always drove at ten miles an hour?

Now he knew why.

Maybe charging down the street, dodging MTs, abandoned cars, and the living statue of his great-great-great—times something big—grandfather who may or may not have been trying to kill them wasn't exactly what the mechanics had in mind when they put that engine in the Regalia, but it sure as hell did the trick.

He half expected a giant stone axe to come crashing down and cut the car in half as they sped by. Maybe the statue hadn't even tried, but Noct sure wasn't going to look back and find out. They hit the intersection. He jerked the wheel and the tires squealed before they caught the curve and launched the Regalia forward again. Ravus and Dad were dead ahead—they both turned at the sound. Noct pushed his foot to the floor; he could take out a good chunk of the MTs before they even got a shot off. Hopefully.

Except they had their guns up and leveled already. And Noct was going too fast to stop all the way, even when his dad motioned that he  _should_ stop.

He slammed on the brakes and turned the wheel sharp right. The Regalia spun in a quarter circle as they reached the tail end of the MTs, knocking out a sizable chunk of them anyway. Too bad he hadn't stopped a second later; he could have hit way more.

As soon as the car stopped, Noctis launched himself over the closed door and pulled his sword on the closest MT. It drew an axe, lifting to counter, but—

" _Hold_ ," Ravus called.

—froze mid swing.

Noctis reacted a second too late. His blade cut the MT from the shoulder halfway through its chest. He pulled his sword free and the MT dropped. The hundred others stood and watched it happen.

What the hell?

"Noctis." His dad was standing in the middle of them, one hand raised. He still looked like he hadn't slept in a week—he probably hadn't, come to think of it—but he didn't look… hurt? Distressed? Then again, Dad had the best poker face in Lucis.

"Dad? What's going on?"

His dad glanced at Ravus, who huffed and folded his arms over his chest.

"Any hope of pretense dissolved the moment I ordered them not to kill the Crown Prince," Ravus said. "I hope you are pleased with yourself, Noctis."

"The commander is—" Noctis' dad paused, looking toward Ravus before continuing. "Allied with Reina."

Ravus didn't dispute the statement. He did look like he'd swallowed something sour, but he'd pretty much looked like that every time Noct had seen him in the past twelve years. Which was like two times.

"He has been… reclaiming command of some of Niflheim's forces," his dad finished.

Right. Well. Shit. Good job, Noct.

"By walkin' around picking them up?" Gladio asked.

Ravus glared at him. "If I can reach the captain of this company, then I can override every MT under its control. Or I could have, had you not forced me to show my hand. Now, likely as not, Ulldor knows precisely what has occurred; it will be only too easy to lock me out from aboard his vessel."

"Wouldn't you have lost these guys, then?" Prompto had come to inspect the one still frozen in place with its axe raised. He poked it in the head; it wobbled.

"It is only a matter of time."

"These things got a self-destruct command?" Gladio asked.

Ravus only stared at him.

Gladio apparently heard 'yes,' when Ravus said '...'.

"Well then blow these things to shit and let's go find this captain before your guy figures it out," Gladio said.

Ravus looked between the four of them, still standing with his arms crossed.

Noctis shrugged and nodded toward the Regalia. "Faster than walking around—" Actually, Rei wasn't here, so "—and you're not supposed to be walking this much, anyway, Dad! Did you seriously walk here from the castle?!"

The mildly disapproving look that he was met with said 'yes.'

"Holy shit! Get in the car." Noctis yanked the back door open. "Reina is going to skin me alive."

They got in. But both of them looked real grumpy about the whole thing.


	50. Ignis, Awaiting Reinforcements

As the Magitek soldiers closed in, Ignis had little time to worry about the earth-shaking steps of the Rogue drawing closer or the proximity of the gelatinous daemons as they inched past him and focused their attention wholly on the imperials. But he couldn't avoid worrying about Iris as he launched her overhead and straight into the middle of imperial ranks for a chance to halt the emperor's progress.

In all fairness, she did stop Aldercapt from climbing aboard the Magitek engine. And, despite her age, she was a competent fighter.

She was also unarmed and outnumbered twenty to one.

She forced Aldercapt to the ground, pinning him with relative ease. But she could only restrain him so long as she held contact, and the other man—stout and armored in red, presumably one of Nifhleim's generals—dragged her off before she could do any more damage.

Ignis redoubled his efforts to reach her. He drove one dagger into the neck of an MT and lifted the other to deflect an incoming blow, ignoring the pain as the axe skimmed across the side of his wrist. He pulled both daggers and removed the second MT's head before turning to the next. No time to stop.

Ahead, Iris danced and dove around the imperial general, keeping out of his reach. He brought his blade down and it skimmed the edge of her skirt before embedding in the pavement. She needed a weapon—even a makeshift on. Anything to keep him at bay.

Ignis slammed his knife through the metal head of the closest MT, twisted it, and released. He reached for his lance and found it precisely where it was meant to be—just outside of reality.

"Iris!" He shifted his grip and threw it straight for her, uttering a silent prayer that she would catch it in her hand and not, for instance, in her stomach.

She turned with one arm out—whether because she expected trouble from his tone or because she somehow knew his plan from two uttered syllables, he couldn't fathom. Either way, she twisted, caught the staff of the lance, and directed its momentum into a strike at her opponent.

That was the best Ignis could do for her; he would simply have to trust in her strength. If he wasted any more time worrying about her, he would lose his head well before she did. He took up both his daggers again and turned his attention to the battle in full.

It became something of a dance where a single toe out of place would mean death. If he stumbled—if he forgot the next step—any one of those blades could catch him unaware—or else he would leave himself open to the sporadic spray of gunfire, which came unpredictably from any given direction. Even between the three of them and their daemon—allies?—the MT numbers hardly seemed to diminish. It took another minute before he realized this was because more were falling from the sky.

Ignis chanced a glance. Two more Magitek engines hovered overhead; a handful of blue streaks slammed into them, one after another, as blades sprouted from the black metal and the Kingsglaive materialized.

And not a moment too soon.

He was still dead center of a growing mass of Magitek soldiers, but he was making progress toward Iris. And Iris was managing to hold her own. She had herself wedged between Aldercapt and his general; whenever the emperor tried to slink past her, she made liberal use of her polearm and knocked his feet out from under him. The extra reach allowed her to keep both MTs and the general at more than arm's length—but she was on her own against the gunfire.

Ignis thrust his dagger into the neck of the last MT between them, threw it into its allies to knock one or two off balance, and closed ranks with Iris. By the time he reached her, she had blood dripping down her cheek and a deep red hole in her arm from a shot she had taken.

"Looking a little worse for the wear," he said.

"You're no spring daisy, yourself."

Yes. Well. The blood in this shirt was unlikely to come out anytime soon, but in all likelihood the holes and burn marks were what would make it unsalvageable, not the stains.

Iris swept her lance and held the incoming MTs at bay. The general swung, hoping to take advantage of her distraction, but Ignis stepped forward to deflect his blade with one dagger and search for a gap in his armor with the other. He found a notch and pushed with his full weight—something gave way; the general cried out and lurched backward.

"Reinforcements!"

Ignis hadn't even noticed how close Cor had gotten until he called out right by Ignis' ear.

At the other end of the lot, a line of cars rounded the corner—headlights blinding against the surrounding night. Hopefully the marshal meant those were their reinforcements, rather than imperial ones. Indeed, he could think of no reason why MTs would be driving cars.

"Hold the line," Cor said.

"I hate to break it to you." Iris shoved an MT back and plunged her lance through it and the one behind it in one motion. "But there isn't really a line."

"Then make one!"

Iris shot Ignis a long-suffering look.

"A triangle, perhaps?" Ignis suggested.

"Just shut up and fight," Cor growled.

Those who poured out of the cars wore a mix of Crownsguard uniforms and fatigues, though some—presumably those who had been at the signing—were dressed formally as members of the government. They slammed into the MTs' outer ranks, pulling much of the pressure off Ignis, Iris, and Cor.

Now if they could just get the emperor—

It wasn't just MTs falling from the sky now.

It must have taken half the imperial fleet to transport that thing across the sea. Or else—more disturbing yet—it had been in Lucis from the start. Whatever it was. Ignis had nothing to compare it to—a daemonic colossus, half as tall as the downtown skyscrapers, which seemed to have jaws upon jaws: a face with too many glowing red eyes and razor teeth as large as cars; two more faceless heads sat at its shoulders, gnashing teeth and spitting flame.

It was an abomination.

And it fell from the sky and crushed an entire warehouses with one step.


	51. Cor, Fighting for Lucis

Hell rained down from the heavens. No matter how many Kingsglaive arrived, no matter how firmly the Crownsguard stood, no matter how fiercely he fought, they could never stand against that.

But if they could take the emperor, they might not need to.

Cor ducked behind Ignis and Iris, letting them cover his back. His left arm was fair useless after the shot he had taken—dead weight hanging at his side—but he pushed on. The emperor had climbed back to his feet for the third time in as many minutes. With the way he moved—hunched over and clutching his stomach—it seemed Iris had done some damage. But he was still moving, still clawing his way closer to the Magitek engine and his escape.

Cor lurched forward. The man in red armor stepped in front of him, cutting off his advance. He was moving awkwardly, as well, but he had the benefit of both his arms. He bore down on Cor, swinging his sword overhead. Cor deflected and ducked out of the way—if he got caught between that blade and anything else he was done for; no way he could hold off with only one hand.

Cor circled back and lunged for his side. His katana hit skin before the imperial got his sword in place to deflect. Still, he stood his ground. That was all he needed to do.

The emperor was climbing the ramp into the Magitek engine.

From overhead came the hum of Magitek, but not the engines of the imperial fleet. In an arc of magenta Drautos bounded above them and landed on the far side of the MTs. And if Drautos was here—

The naginata seemed to sprout from his chest. In a flash of blue, Reina clutched the staff, feet braced against his armor. She leapt backward, putting her blade free and landing neatly a few feet away.

Aldercapt was gone.

Cor threw his sword up in time to catch another blow from the imperial general. He turned and swept one of the imperial's legs, sending him to the ground and forcing him to throw his sword wide.

The Magitek engine roared to life; it was lifting off the ground before the ramp was even up.

"He's getting away!" Cor lunged for the still-open hatch. One good leap would about—

The imperial general caught Cor's foot and a biting pain shot out from his knee. Cor jerked back with a dagger lodged in the side of his leg and swept his sword down. With one neat strike he severed head from neck, but the imperial had already won:

The Magitek engine was off the ground and every tiny motion sent hot pain through Cor's whole leg.

Shit.

Hell if he was giving up, now.

He wrenched the knife from his knee and bit back a growl of pain. Hot blood poured from the wound and dripped down his leg, puddling inside his boot. If the blood loss didn't kill him, the imperials probably would. Or that daemon-weapon.

He took one halting step. His leg threatened to give out under his weight, but he forced it to hold. Pain was in the mind; the brain's warning that something had gone wrong. No shit it had gone wrong. If he didn't keep moving, it would get worse. He stopped thinking. No thoughts; no pain. He broke into a stuttering sprint, leaving bloody footprints behind. The hatch of the ship was closing. No time left.

He leapt.


	52. Regis, in the Regalia

What ought have been catastrophic when Noctis arrived and mistook Regis' company as imprisonment, turned out to be a blessing in disguise. So Ravus had a plan beyond gathering stray Magitek soldiers one by one, after all. It would have been nice to have known in the first place, but they were walking a very fine line between 'mutual allies' and 'sworn enemies'.

They left the precarious company of Magitek soldiers behind in a blaze of fire as Noctis sent the Regalia flying down the street in the direction indicated by Ravus. And Regis found himself once more in the back of his old automobile companion. Noctis' driving wasn't near as terrifying as Reina would have had him believe. Admittedly, he was too relieved to be sitting down to notice much outside of the car, but thus far they had not crashed into anything.

Meanwhile, inside the car, Noct's friend Prompto was sitting as close to Gladiolus on his other side as was possible and looking straight ahead with his hands clenched in his lap.

Regis held his cane between his knees and stared ahead. "Mr Argentum, I feel I must remind you that I do not, nor have I ever, caused bodily harm to one of my son's friends."

"Wha—oh! Uh. Sorry, sir—Your Majesty, sir."

By all that was holy, he hoped whatever they were looking for was not very far away.

Regis leaned back in his seat, biting back a groan and resisting the urge to run his hands over his knee. Noctis was right. If any of them got out of this alive, Reina was going to skin one or both of them. At the moment, however, he had more considerable worries than the state of his damn knee—and everything attached to it.

The civilians had fled this region, or at least had the good sense to keep out of sight. Imperial soldiers marched unchecked through the streets, and in every shadow and each darkened alleyway, daemons prowled. Niflheim wasn't interested in causing structural damage. Yet. They seemed only to be subduing the people to take control of the capital.

"Stop," Ravus commanded without warning.

Noctis complied with equivalent abruptness. Regis managed to catch himself and not smash face-first into the back of Noct's seat. He winced at the impact. He was too old for all this excitement.

"There." Ravus pointed down the street to their right.

A squad of Magitek soldiers patrolled the area. They appeared much the same as every other group they had passed, thus far. Nevertheless, Noctis turned the Regalia and sent her coasting down the street. As they drew closer it did seem as if one among them was shaped a little differently and armed with a rifle instead of a blade.

Ravus opened the door before the Regalia had stopped and set his feet on the ground near as soon. He kept one hand on the hilt of his blade as he approached. Regis rose, taking support from the driver's seat. Much as he didn't care for Ravus as a person, for the moment they were united in purpose. Regis would protect him, if need be.

In spite of his caution, the empty soldiers saluted and stepped aside for Ravus. He strode straight to the rifle-bearing soldier and appeared, so far as Regis could tell in the flickering streetlights, to hold some manner of conversation. The MT produced what appeared to be a radio, which Ravus took. In few moments he had rejoined them at the Regalia.

"It would appear the plan is not entirely ruined," Ravus said. "For whatever reason, our collusion has gone unnoticed by the powers that be. I now have command of all the MTs in this sector; I may be able to override a larger group…  _if_ we can reach a command ship."

"Aren't you gonna make these ones go boom-boom, too?" Prompto asked.

Ravus glared at him and dropped into the front passenger side seat. "How old are you,  _Prince_  Noctis?"

"Twenty. Why?"

"And yet, you still hold the company of five year olds. How suitable."

"Hey!" Prompto said.

"Commander." Regis, too, sat back down. "May I request that you instruct them to move away from any and all humans before they self-destruct?"

"What about the daemons?" Gladio asked. "If you've got the MTs, might as well put them to use against the daemons."

"I do not believe the daemons are a concern, anymore, Gladiolus," Regis said.

Outside every circle of light thrown by every street lamp, they hovered. On the drive, the Regalia had passed by dozens of them, and yet not a single one had made aggressive overtures.

"I believe it is safe to assume, at this point, that Reina holds their leash." Precisely what that meant, he was still uncertain. But it did seem to mean they were not hostile toward Lucians.

They drove again. All around them, the streets echoed with explosions as every MT in the sector self-destructed.


	53. Noctis, Destroying an Army

Ravus was the worst at giving directions.

Worse than Prompto, and Prompto always got distracted halfway there and started talking about chocobos or some other shit and forgot where they were even going. But at least with Prompto they just stopped to pick up ice cream and went to the arcade by default, so it didn't really matter.

But Ravus was just shit. He didn't know where they were going and was too much of an ass to admit it so mostly they were driving around in circles and there wasn't even ice cream.

Actually, Noct was pretty sure they had passed that ice cream shop. It was going to take a while to put it back in working order…

If they ever got the imperials out of the city.

And the daemons.

And if the owner was still alive.

Alright. Ice cream was shit. More important stuff to worry about right now.

They were way out of downtown when Ravus finally found what he wanted—the Magitek engine sitting in the Citadel Square and swarming with MTs.

"You know, if you said you were looking for this I coulda told you it was here," Noctis said.

"I told you precisely what we were looking for," Ravus snapped.

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever makes you feel better about yourself."

Never mind the fact that they had wasted like an hour driving around and people were dying and the Crownsguard radio had been real quiet for a while.

Ravus snarled at him and got out of the car. Noct got out as well, but he wasn't going in there unless they started shooting at Ravus. And even then maybe not until after they hit him a couple times.

Alright, fine. Before they hit him.

"Uh… guys…?" Prompto said.

Noct turned. Due south, where all the Crownsguards and Kingsglaives had gone, a massive imperial ship was flying in a slightly-less-massive daemon. It _was_ a daemon, wasn't it? Noct couldn't think what else it might have been, but holy hell!

It hit the ground up by the warehouses. Its wing-like shoulders opened up and—were those missiles coming out of its shoulders?

Holy _hell_. That wasn't a daemon. It was a weapon.

They rained down across the industrial district. Fires popped up all over the hillside; just puffs of flame at first, but not for long. Even from the center of the city, the thing looked as big as Noct's fist. It must have been as tall as the Gods damned Citadel.

"Iris is up there," Gladio said.

" _Everyone_ is up there, Gladio," Noct growled at him.

The entire Crownsguard. The entire Kingsglaive. Ignis. Iris. Cor. Hell, the only person he knew that might have been safe was Luna.

He sure hoped she was safe.

_They_ definitely weren't safe.

Behind them, the MTs standing around the ship began to march away toward the center of the square.

Ravus appeared at the mouth of the imperial ship. "You could stand there, worthless, all night, or we could fly over. Your choice."

Yeah, sure. Getting into an imperial ship with the high commander. What could possibly go wrong?

Then again, what wasn't already going wrong?


	54. Ignis, On the Ground

Cor swept past them and Ignis closed ranks with Iris to cover his back. Someone needed to chase down Aldercapt; Cor had the best chance.

They fought, trying not to think about that massive creature and the way its steps shook the whole city, or the stinging pain that seemed to come from every inch of exposed skin, or the exhaustion rapidly settling in and the fact that the MTs didn't have any such limitation. They fought, trying not to think about the Magitek armor that bounded over head and between the two airships, trying not to be distracted by Reina's arrival. Not even she could put this mess straight by herself. To hope for it would only be folly.

But he could not ignore the yell of pain three feet away when Cor doubled over with a dagger in his knee.

In fact, the yell was for removing the dagger and immediately putting all his weight on his injured leg.

"Marshal—!" Ignis turned to follow, distantly hoping that Iris could manage the MTs without him.

How in the name of the Astrals did Cor run so bloody fast when he should have been crippled?! Small wonder they called him the Immortal. Ignis released both his knives and flung himself into a full sprint. Though the distance closed between him and Cor, the ship was still much too far ahead. He couldn't catch up; he couldn't reach the imperial ship before it was out of range. But Cor sprang from the earth in a motion that simply shouldn't have been possible moments after pulling a bloody knife from his leg.

And he caught the edge of the ramp before it was out of reach.

Ignis stopped running. Cor would catch the emperor. Or he wouldn't. Either way, Ignis could do nothing about it.

_Godspeed, Marshal._

He turned back to the battle, expecting to find Iris waist deep in MTs. Instead, every single MT—or every one that could still move—was walking away from them. They marched to the hillside that dropped toward the city. They were retreating? Surely not. Magitek engines still hovered above—if they had some destination in mind, why would they not fly?

Some of the Crownsguards and Kingsglaives followed. Others turned toward the enormous daemon as it opened its mouth and spilled fire, igniting the rubble of the warehouse it had already crushed. Beyond, Reina's battle with General Glauca raged on—though she cast her eyes toward them more than once.

"Crepera!" Reina shouted. "Tonitrus! Take down that daemon!"

Ignis had all but forgotten about the statues of the Lucii and the Old Wall, but no sooner had the words left Reina's mouth than the Rogue appeared from the darkness past the warehouses and the Fierce—preceded by his mace—materialized in a burst of blue fire.

So the statues could warp. He'd had no idea.

Explosions sounded from the direction of the city. No more time to think about history and magic. The MTs who had arrived at the edge of the pavement near the guardrail went up in flames, spraying metal and armor shrapnel in every direction. The Crownsguards who had been pursuing them halted, shielding their faces and backing away. As more and more MTs moved out of range, they, too, self-destructed.

Ignis wasn't wont to look a gift horse in the mouth, but he desperately wanted to know what was going on.

Cor was still hanging from the hatch of the Magitek engine; Ignis could just barely see him, swinging in the air as he struggled to pull himself up. The hatch was closing and with it went Cor's chance of climbing aboard. From this height the fall would kill him, Immortal or no.

"Reina!" Ignis shouted.

She blasted Glauca back into the outer wall of a nearby warehouse and turned to look at Ignis.

"The Marshal—" Ignis pointed.

She looked. And she hesitated, eyes moving back to Glauca as he crawled to his feet.


	55. Cor, Falling

Who the hell had thought it was a good idea to hang off an imperial ship with only one functioning arm and one functioning leg?!

Gods almighty, if he made it through this he was going to kill himself.

The earth fell away beneath his feet. He struggled to keep his grip on the closing hatch, but all he had was a fingerhold on a smooth metal surface and one of his hands was slippery with blood. Not that it mattered. That arm was shot to shit, anyway; trying to pull himself up with it had only resulted in searing pain and a surety that whatever muscle the bullet had torn through was now shredded.

Fucking. Idiot.

If he didn't get up there soon he was going straight back down where he had come from. The trip down would be fine. It was the landing he was worried about.

He shifted his weight back and forth, trying to build enough momentum to throw one leg up. That was harder to do with one arm, as well.

Only a few feet left of clearance.

Shit.

He was dead already.

If only he had the chance to take the emperor down with him…

—the elemental grenade.

The flask that Ignis had handed him minutes—had it only been minutes?—ago. It was heavy in his pocket and between the blood filling his boot and the hole in his arm, he had forgotten it was there at all. He groped for it with his bloodied hand. One foot of clearance left. No more time to hesitate.

Cor spent the last of his strength in an upward surge, heaving himself just far enough to throw the elemental grenade inside of the ship and praying that it did enough damage on its own.

And then he let go.

Better to die flying than cooked.

Wind rushed around him. He was weightless, sensationless, numb with the knowledge of what was to come. He only wished he could have seen it through to the end—ensured that Reina was kept safe. And Regis. Well. At least he wouldn't outlive another king.

_Forgive me, Your Highness._

He shut his eyes against the sight of the rapidly approaching ground.

_I could not do as you asked._

Impact.

Not as hard as it should have been and from entirely the wrong direction. He should have hit straight down, dead too soon to feel a thing. Instead the world crashed into him from the side and it hurt.

He opened his eyes.

And immediately wished he hadn't.

Regis had always said the first time he warped was the worst experience of his life. They had laughed and poked fun of him, and he—good-natured man that he was—had only smiled and never offered to set them straight.

Cor's body moved but his head was left behind. His stomach turned inside out and reality pressed so close up against his face that he thought he would suffocate in an instant. He rushed through an un-space, blacker than the Starscourge.

And stopped all at once.

He was on the ground, tumbling head over heels and ass-backwards, and for a few seconds he forgot what was up and what was down, what was him and what was not—because some of the places where he hit the ground, he didn't feel anything at all.

Must have been the blood loss.

Or he really was dead.

Or—more crazy—those parts  _weren't_ him. Probably they belonged to whoever had slammed into him midair and warped him out of a suicide dive.

"Cor?  _Cor?_ Are you alright?" Reina's face swam into view.

Yeah. Blood loss. Reina never worried about him.

He turned away and coughed—miraculously, no blood came out, but he was pretty sure he had more cracked ribs on top of the ones Drautos had given him.

He wasn't sure he wouldn't have preferred being dead.

"Yeah." His voice came out hoarse and scratchy. He tried to push himself up, quickly remembered why he hadn't been using his left arm, and tried again. "Fine."

It didn't matter that half of his ribs were broken, that his head was three hundred feet away, that the bullet hole straight through his bicep was still bleeding sluggishly, that the side of his shirt was shredded and blooded like the skin underneath, that he couldn't feel his leg from the knee down and was damn sure he was never walking again: when she slapped him, that was the only thing he felt.

"Don't you  _ever_ do that again!"

_Hellfire_ that stung!

Cor lifted his hand to his cheek, head ringing. Who had taught her how to hit?!

His vision was still white and sparkling around the edges when she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him fiercely.

Blood loss could account for hallucinations. It was ten times more likely than Reina appearing out of fucking nowhere, slapping him, and then hugging him.

"Must be hallucinating."

Reina glared at him. "Do I need to hit you again?"

"Please don't."

In the distance, an explosion rocked the world. Cor turned to look and immediately regretted the decision. His vision swam when he moved his head. When it cleared, he could see the flames engulfing a fallen Magitek engine in the distance.

"So much for taking Aldercapt alive," Reina sighed.

"Sorry," Cor said.

"Don't," she said. "You did more than your share."

"Drautos?" He asked.

She looked up. Overhead, the fleet of Magitek engines was rising higher by the minute. Retreating?

"Somewhere in there, probably." she said.

It took a moment for the information to sink in. She had been fighting with Drautos the last time Cor had looked; she should have been able to take him down, but…

But she had let him go.

Because of Cor.

"Shit." Cor ran his hands over his face, leaving streaks of blood behind. "My fault."

"Stop it." She pulled his hands away and made brisk work of looking him over. "You're worth it, to me, alright? So shut up and let me heal you."

"You could still go after them," Cor said.

"What part of 'shut up and let me heal you,' did you not understand?"

She tore open the sleeve of his coat to look at the bullet wound. He let her, because he didn't want to get hit again and regardless of whether or not he was worth losing Drautos over, she would hit him again.

He turned his gaze out as she began to work her magic—a peculiar tingling sensation spread from his bicep down to his fingertips. It overwhelmed the searing pain with tiny pins and needles.

It wasn't until then that he realized they were on the roof of a factory or warehouse or something. Down below and a few hundred feet away, the Crownsguard and Kingsglaive were congregating, keeping their distance from the battle that raged between the colossal daemon and two Lucian monarchs from the Old Wall. Overhead, most of the imperial ships were in full retreat, but one grounded ship remained where it was, behind the blaze of the emperor's dropship.

His bicep still hurt when he moved, but tentative motion revealed that Reina's magic had already repaired some of the internal damage—the strength was beginning to return to his arm. Reina pulled the knife from his boot—Gods knew how she knew it was there in the first place—and cut his pant leg from the knee down so she could lay her hands on his skin and sink her magic into him.

"Stupid, stubborn ass," she muttered. "Why can't you just keep your feet on the ground and out of the fire?"

Cor glared at her. "Why can't you let me protect you?"

A thousand pins jabbed into his leg as muscle and tendons were stitched back together with magic. Cor clenched his jaw and held back a grimace.

"I can protect myself!" Reina snapped.

The Ring of the Lucii glowed faintly on her hand as she worked. The light of magic illuminated her skin—pale lines crept up her arms, like the crumbling ash left behind of a piece of paper set smoldering. The longer she worked at his knee, the farther they spread, expanding in that same way—as if the magic was burning the top layer of her skin off and leaving ash behind.

If it hurt, she didn't show it.

Cor grabbed her wrists, breaking the contact and concentration she needed for healing. "Not every threat comes from the outside."

He twisted her hands in his; the pale burn marks ran up past her elbow and all the way around her arm—both arms. He brushed his fingers over the skin and found it rough to the touch. Who the hell was she calling a stubborn ass?

And her arms weren't the only thing.

He released her hands and grabbed her chin, tilting her head to one side, then the other. The spindly burn marks spread from beneath her collar, making their way up the sides of her neck. She tilted her head loosely at his urging. Not contrite, but at least compliant.

"I am not worth this, Your Highness." He released her chin, leaving the white marks of his fingers on her skin. "Nor is Drautos."

"Drautos may not be, but you are."

"I am not worth your life," he repeated, more sternly. "That is the entire purpose of a bodyguard."

"You're not my bodyguard," she said. "You're my friend."

He sat there, dumbfounded, while she went back to work. She didn't use any more magic, in spite of her words. She bound his knee and arm tightly with the strips she had cut from his pant leg and made short work of inspecting him for any other life-threatening injuries. Apparently satisfied, she sat back on her heels and wiped blood on her black trousers.

"Besides," she said, "I know where my limits are. I don't intend to kill myself."

"I don't intend to let you."

She smiled; in forty-eight hours, he had nearly grown accustomed to this new, harsh Reina—it was strange to see her smile now. Nice. But strange.

To the south, movement caught his eye. Shadows thrown by the flames of the burning Magitek Engine made it difficult to identify. A person? A daemon? No animal would willingly venture so close to the wreckage. He didn't think it was a trick of the light.

"Reina," Cor said. "I don't think the emperor is dead."

She looked where he did.

"Impossible..." Her eyes widened.

She stood and he struggled upright a beat after. It took him three times as long, but she didn't seem to notice; she walked toward the far edge of the roof, squinting toward the wreckage.

In hindsight, standing was a bad idea. Not that he was ever going to admit that out loud. He gritted his teeth and balanced on one leg.

"It doesn't look like a person…" She turned and found Cor standing.

"Mule," she said.

"Likewise," Cor said.

"You're not coming."

"Like hell I'm not."

"You can't even walk!"

"I can manage." It would have been nice to say he had told a worse lie at some point in his life; he couldn't think of one.

Reina heaved a sigh. "There's only one person on Eos more stubborn than you."

"You?" He asked.

She smiled. Instead of responding, she tucked herself under his arm and summoned her naginata. "Ready?"

"No."

She threw it anyway.

The world lurched.

When it rematerialized, it seemed to spin around him. He only kept his footing because Reina was still under his arm, steadying him. Cor clutched her shoulder and forced his head to sit straight on his neck.

They were close enough to the fallen Engine to feel the heat of the flames baking one side of their skin. The shadows all around leapt and danced in the flickering light, but he saw nothing to indicate another person.

Reina released him and crept toward the front of the ship. Cor followed less gracefully. He pushed away the discomfort of having a boot full of blood and two half-healed wounds. More important things to worry about. His knee still hurt like hell with every step, but it wasn't bleeding anymore and it held his weight. That would have to be enough. Hell if he was going to let her walk into this on her own.

They rounded the corner, keeping as close to the flames as they dared, and found what they were looking for.

No wonder it hadn't looked human. It wasn't. The Magitek armor Drautos wore like an exoskeleton protected the insect they all knew stood inside. Soulless. Bastard. Traitor.

From the wreckage, Drautos dragged a much-charred and badly burned Emperor Aldercapt. His white robes were singed and streaked with ash. What little was visible of his skin was cherry red and blistered. His eyes were shut, but he winced and lolled his head to one side as Drautos pulled him away from the flames.

"You should have fled while you had the chance." Reina still held her naginata.

Drautos looked up at them. His armor gave off rancid black smoke and, in more than one place, it was dented and slashed open. Reina's handiwork.

"And you should mind your king, while yet he lives," Drautos said.

She laughed, mirthless, and shook her head. "That only works for you once."

For a moment they only stared at each other: silent and hardly daring to move. Drautos held the emperor in his arms, still close enough to the blaze that the flames licked his armor. Cor shifted his weight to his good leg, flexing his sword hand and watching for any hint of motion. Then Reina flung her naginata and warped. Drautos leapt, the Magitek in his suit whirring to life as he took flight—Aldercapt in toe—and her naginata shot beneath him. She caught it when she rematerialized, rolling and rising to her feet. Cor drew his blade; he was already too far away. He broke into a run, ignoring every protest from his knee, as Reina gave chase.

Drautos made for the grounded drop ship behind the ruined one. Reina would have caught him. If she had been on her own. Instead she hesitated, glancing back at Cor as he struggled forward.

"Go!" He shouted. "Catch him!"

She turned and took Cor's arm across her shoulders.

"Better we go together," she said.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FOUR CHAPTERS LEFT!
> 
> Reckoning is ready to launch on December 9th. Are you ready??


	56. Ignis, Following Reina

It seemed like minutes that he stood below, telling himself that Reina wouldn't let Cor fall, while he watched the hatch on the emperor's ship close inch by inch.

And then Cor fell.

"Marshal—!" Ignis took a step forward—pointless, when he knew it would only kill them both if he put himself in the way.

But Cor never hit the ground.

He vanished in a burst of blue fire. For half a second, Reina was visible mid-air, wrapping herself around him and then throwing her naginata again. And they were both gone.

But she had him. Ignis let out the breath he hadn't known he had been holding in.

Iris was pulling at his arm. He turned—behind, the towering daemon grew closer in an uncontrolled rage as it swung for its two opponents. It was all they could do to flee far enough from that monstrosity of a daemon while the Lucii brought it down. It was just as well that they did—the damn thing went up in a blaze of flames when the Rogue's shuriken plunged directly into the glowing red core in its chest. Much as the emperor's craft had.

For a time it seemed everything was over. The MTs were gone—transformed into so much scrap metal burning in a pile near the edge of the plateau—what daemons still lingered stood doing nothing at all like automatons without instructions, the imperial fleet was fleeing—taking what remained of their forces and cutting their losses—and below, in the main of the Crown City, the Old Wall was cleaning up any imperials left behind.

Ignis took the opportunity to look for Reina and Cor. He caught sight of them atop a foundry, but only for a brief second before they disappeared in another burst of blue magic. They didn't reappear—not anywhere Ignis could see, in any case. Odd. If the empire was in full retreat, why not bring Cor back where he could receive appropriate medical attention?

Unless it wasn't over. Movement caught his eye, north near where the emperor's ship had come down. It looked like little more than shadows from the dancing light at first, but then it took shape. Multiple shapes. Had Iedolas survived? Had they gone to apprehend him?

"Uh—Ignis." Iris tugged at his sleeve. "There's another ship coming."

He tore his eyes from the blaze of flames. An imperial dropship approached from the thick of the city leaving little doubt that they were its destination. Ignis reached for his knives again. The emperor would have to wait—Reina and Cor would have him well enough in hand before Ignis could reach them, in any case.

Iris twisted his lance in her hands and squared her shoulders. All around them, the Crownsguard was doing much the same.

The ship opened its hatch as it lowered toward them. Instead of MTs, only a handful of people stood inside. Was that Noct? And King Regis?

All the drawn weapons vanished. The drop ship—piloted by none other than the imperial high commander—landed on the bare pavement and all those standing outside dropped to one knee, half out of relief. Few could stand before King Regis and not feel moved to kneel.

The quiet moment lasted but a breath. Gladio bounded out, seized Iris by the shoulders, and looked her over for every scrape and bruise; she had plenty to catalogue. Iris shot Ignis a long-suffering look and he smiled in return. She had done astounding work—Gladio and her father would both be proud, once they overcame the initial shock and worry.

Prompto, Noctis, and King Regis exited more slowly and with more dignity. Or at least, King Regis did.

"Specs." Noct came first to him. "Where's Rei?"

Ignis rose hastily to his feet as the king appeared behind Noctis.

"Your Majesty." He bowed, though he had only just stood up. "I believe that Her Highness and the Marshal have gone to investigate the state of the emperor."

As he turned to look toward the blazing imperial ship, the tell-tale flash of blue magic lit just enough of the shadows to see Reina and Cor chasing after a massive, armored figure as it dragged a smaller, white-clad man along. One imperial ship remained grounded and whole. That was their destination. The imperials reached it first—but only because Cor was struggling to keep up and Reina refused to leave him behind.

Ignis' feet were moving practically before his brain had begun to process the images before him. That was Glauca. Impossible. After Reina had abandoned her assault on him in favor of saving Cor, he had flown away to the fleet of fleeing imperial ships.

...hadn't he?

Admittedly, Ignis had not actually seen him board one of the ships. The more pressing matter of life or death had rather distracted him. Was it possible he had stayed behind to aid in the emperor's retreat?

Iris was beside him, keeping up remarkably well for all that she was nearly a foot shorter than him. Behind them, the king shouted orders and boots thundered on pavement in response. Ignis kept his eyes fixed ahead.

By that time, Reina and Cor had disappeared inside the belly of the ship. And the engines were flaring to life. Ignis rounded the burning ship and caught sight of them once more just as the Magitek engine lifted off from the ground.

"Reina!" Ignis shouted after her. What he wouldn't have given for her ability to warp just then.

She spared him a fleeting glance and a "Turn back, Ignis," before turning her attention toward something inside the ship.

Ignis redoubled his efforts to reach them before the ship was too high. Already it was several feet off the ground. With perfect timing and a calculated leap, he might barely manage.

Iris caught his sleeve and he looked back at her. She wore a look that required no words. Ignis only nodded. He held his hand out to her and she took hold of his arm with both hands.

They took but a handful of steps; Ignis turned, bending one knee to give her a boost, and propelled her into the air as they had done before when he launched her over the Magitek forces to halt the emperor's escape. She caught the still-open hatch easily, hoisting herself up with practiced ease and hooking one leg over the edge to keep her balance.

"Iris—!" Gladio shouted after them.

Ignis took a running jump after her; his hands connected with the smooth metal lip of the ramp and Iris' fingers closed around his wrist. He hauled himself up and she dragged him aboard, both of them rolling together into the imperial ship as the hatch angled inward.

Outside, blue lights streaked past, indicating the arrival of the Kingsglaive—or Noctis. Whoever it was, none of them made it through the rapidly closing gap as the Magitek engine took to the skies.

Ignis sat up and straightened his glasses. They were standing in the passenger bay—if it could be called that, when it was meant only to hold empty soldiers—of the Magitek engine. Reina and Cor stood at the opposite end of the hold, where a closed and sealed door barred their way. They had turned, however, when Iris and Ignis tumbled in.

"It seems you were wrong, Your Highness," Cor said. "Those two are at least as stubborn as me."

Reina crossed her arms over her chest and glared at both of them. Though she was streaked with ash, she appeared unharmed. "Why can no one around here follow simple instructions?!"

Behind him, the hatch closed fully.

"With all due respect, Your Highness." Ignis picked himself up off the ground. "There are times when a monarch's retinue must make the conscious decision to disobey an order. For the good of their king or queen."

"Yeah!" Iris said. "If you wanted MTs to follow you around, there were plenty of those, just now. But you're with people, instead."

"Accept the truth, Your Highness," Cor said. "Bodyguards follow orders. Friends rarely do."

Reina looked from face to face—somewhere between Ignis, Iris, and Cor, the annoyance faded. Ignis had no word to describe the look that took its place: like a smile trying not to cry.

"You're right," she said, too quiet. "I should remember what it's like to have friends."


	57. Regis, Feeling Helpless

From aboard the Magitek engine, they had watched as the colossal daemon tore through ranks of Crownsguard and Kingsglaive alike. And then Reina had come, a streak of blue ever dogging Drautos, and summoned the Lucii to her. Centuries it had been since the statues of the Old Wall had last drawn their blades; Regis had not thought to live to see the next time they did, but here they were. He could not decide if that was a blessing or a curse.

They could see some little of what followed: the imperial fleet was in full retreat following the loss of their army, but one drop ship lagged behind the rest and a man dangled from the closing hatch. It wasn't until he had fallen and been caught that Regis realized it was Cor.

They lost sight of both Reina and Cor after they warped from the sky. When Ravus landed the ship, neither were anywhere to be seen. Or so he thought, before Ignis indicated the burning Magitek ship and those figures that skirted around it.

Thirty years he had willingly sacrificed for the good of Insomnia and Lucis. He wished them all back. If only he could have moved more quickly. If only he could have reached her in time. If only he had some of his old strength and youth back.

He might have saved her.

It didn't matter that his spent years had bought life for Insomnia. What was all of this without his little girl?

Crownsguards and Kingsglaive alike surged past him while he struggled with cane and knee. He reached the burning ship well after the others. He watched Ignis and Iris climb aboard at the last moment, and the blue streaks as Kingsglaive blades sliced through the air, searching for purchase and failing to find it.

"Reina—!" Regis' cry was lost in the roar of the fire and the grind of the Magitek engine.

He watched Noctis, screaming after his sister, throw his blade as hard as he could. He watched the blade clash against the metal of the ship and fall with Noctis attached. He watched the Glaives try again and again, throwing their knives mid-air, only to slide off the smooth side of the ship. He watched that ship rise up until it was but a red star in the black sky.

And all he could do was limp after—five feet, ten feet, twenty feet behind the Crownsguard—then stop and stare with the rest of them.

If only he was stronger.

He would have given Lucis for her.


	58. Cor, the Final Confrontation

On the one hand, they were now four. On the other hand, they had no way of reaching Drautos and the emperor, and they were flying straight for the imperial fleet. The door between the passenger bay and the control room was sealed. Cor wouldn't have put it past the imperials to have built in some mechanism to permanently fuse the damn thing. Did it really matter to them that no one could get out, if all they were transporting were MTs?

Cor shoved his shoulder against it and found not even a centimeter of give.

"Can you melt this thing?" He asked Reina.

"I expect so." She released her naginata and stepping forward to lay her hands on the door. Fire burst beneath her palms as if she held napalm in her hands. It curled harmlessly against the metal. For a moment. But bit by bit it warmed; two red-orange circles appeared where she touched the door and expanded until they formed one.

The ashy white burns ate up her arms, one millimeter at a time, for every second that the ring blazed on her finger. He should never have asked her to use that damn thing. He would just have to stop her.

"Reina—" He stepped forward

She glanced at him. Her hands broke through the door; the center hole expanded until molten metal had sloughed to the floor. Beyond, they caught a glimpse of the control room; both Drautos and Aldercapt turned, the latter more slowly and more stiffly, wincing as he did so. In the light, the blistered burns that covered half his skin showed an angry red. Then he was gone from sight, as Drautos' blade plunged through the hole in the door.

Reina phased and the sword passed harmlessly through the air where her face had been an instant before. Cor lunged, catching Drautos' blade with his and forcing it up against the still-red steel.

"Is it really necessary to leave it until the last millisecond?" Cor asked her.

Drautos' armor smoked and smoldered where it touched the heat of her flame. His arm jerked back through the hole and Cor scarcely had time to release his hold or be sliced in two.

"Only when I'm trying to impress you." Reina stepped back and gathered an armful of flames.

A pair of daggers shot through the gap in the door, one after another. Metal sounded on metal like a blade sliding into a sheath.

"Consider me impressed," Cor said. "Are we through showing off, now?"

"But I didn't even get to start!" Iris said.

Reina released the flames. They spiraled in a horizontal pillar, stemming from her hands and blasting through what remained of the door. From beyond, somewhere amidst the fire and smoke, Drautos groaned in pain.

So he could feel something through that suit, after all.

"I suggest you hurry up," Ignis said. "Before Her Highness removes the opportunity."

Or before the ship ended up like the last one Cor had been on.

Even after Reina released her column of flame, the control room continued to burn. Aldercapt screamed. Sparks leapt from the console. And, from the midst of the billowing smoke, Drautos came.

He was a blur of black and magenta, his Magitek armor smoking in more places than Cor could count. In spite of that, in spite of the dents and dings in his suit, he moved like a man possessed.

The ship was falling; it rocked and stuttered, jerking in the air before an uncomfortable sensation gripped Cor's stomach. The emperor was still screaming. The imperial fleet was now fully out of reach, Aldercapt as good as dead. Drautos had nothing left to lose; if he gave in, he submitted himself to ten years of torture—if Reina's words could be trusted. Cor didn't mean to test her. It seemed Drautos didn't, either. He would die, he already knew it. It was only a matter of how many he could take along with him.

Drautos swept his sword up; the tip dragged along the ground and threw sparks from the metal. He forced Cor back and Reina as well, until they made a line with Ignis and Iris. Drautos held the door to the control room at his back. If they didn't draw him off and get someone on those flames, they were dead. They were more than high enough for that.

The ship lurched again. This time Reina lunged forward, her naginata in hand. She was a whirlwind of magic and blades and for a moment Cor forgot to do anything except watch. He could see his style in her art: the stance, the motion of her chest just before she struck, even the look of stony focus upon her face. She circled Drautos and used her polearm to its fullest, keeping him at bay when it suited her and drawing close for a show of force when it didn't.

All the while the ring of the Lucii burned brightly on her finger. Drautos struck. Reina phased, so close to him now that they nearly touched each time she stepped around him. For that split second where she was nowhere, Drautos seemed to burst with that same light of her magic and each time he did, he groaned in pain. But every time their blades met, Reina's skin burned.

Cor nudged Ignis on his way past, finding them doing much the same as he had been, himself—standing and staring. "Look alive."

He couldn't let her do this to herself. He couldn't stand by and let her burn for a traitor.

Ignis shook himself, as if coming free of a trance, and nodded. "Right."

Cor opened his mouth to send them to the control room but Ignis and Iris were already moving that direction. No need for words. They dodged past the slam of Drautos' sword and Cor stepped forward to block the way before Drautos could follow them.

"Why come back for the emperor, Titus?" Cor readied his blade. "A treasoner like you should have leapt at the chance to turn your back on another monarch."

"Your king is a coward unfit to wear the crown. It is no fault of mine that he is unworthy of loyalty." His blade came down and Cor felt a rush of air before it slammed into the wall behind him.

The ship lurched again. Reina took advantage of Drautos' distraction and struck at his back with steel and lightning both. The next moment all three of them were thrown, stumbling and struggling to stay upright as the ship dropped several feet all at once.

When Cor could stand upright again, he spat at Drautos' feet. "You wouldn't know loyalty if it cut your throat."

And Cor meant that it should.

Drautos lunged for him, but he made the fatal mistake of leaving his back open to Reina. She struck hard and fast, first with the butt of her naginata to the back of his knee, sending him bowling forward, and then with the blade to his neck. Metal clashed with metal. She shoved and twisted; lightning crackled along her skin, down her naginata, and burst against his helmet. Half of his helmet shot free in the blast and embedded itself in the wall.

"Death is too good for you, traitor." Reina lifted her hand. The light of the ring burned red instead of white as she did to Drautos what she had first done to the daemons in the crystal chamber. Red light blazed in Drautos' chest. He clutched at his breastplate, as if trying to contain it. Then he screamed and convulsed as she pulled life from his veins like poison from a wound.

The light leapt to the ring.

Drautos fell, face first and motionless.

Reina crumbled after.

"REINA—!"

Cor's sword vanished. Reina hit the ground before he could leap over Drautos and reach her. She was still smoldering—violet under white, now, with burns creeping all over. He groped for a pulse in her neck. Her skin was hot to the touch—not warm like it should have been—but beneath burning skin he felt an unsteady thrumming. Weaker than he would have liked. But there.

"We are coming down, Marshal! Prepare for a rough landing," Ignis called from the control room.

He wasn't worried about himself. But he gathered Reina up to his chest and braced her. He wedged himself up in a corner to keep her from the worst of it and dragged her into his lap, cradling her against his chest. Tonight he would be her shield, even if never again.

The ship lurched and trembled. Smoke continued to billow out of the control room and the wall at Cor's back was burning hot against his shirt, but the flames were gone.

They dropped.

And pulled up and dropped again. The engine stuttered, then caught, providing just enough intermittent lift to keep them from plummeting unrestrained toward the ground. Cor tightened his hold on Reina and gritted his teeth. He couldn't see a thing outside; his only warning on the proximity of the ground was Ignis shouting from the control room:

"Brace yourselves!"

And then they hit.

With a terrible crunch of metal against pavement, the whole world careened around him. Cor was thrown away from the wall, in spite of the pains he had taken to hold himself in securely, and both he and Reina went tumbling. He kept her against his chest and took the brunt of the impact with his back. He added a few more broken ribs to his collection. They hit the ground hard and Reina rolled out of his arms; she was across the passenger bay before the world stopped moving.

A dry cough from the control room told him that Ignis, at least, was still breathing. Cor dragged himself up and across to Reina.

"Reina?"

Her skin was still too hot and she was unresponsive, in spite of the fall. More importantly, she was still breathing.

"Marshal?" Ignis called from the front of the ship.

"Fine," Cor called back. "You two?"

"A few bruises." Ignis appeared in the doorway, unsteady on the slanted ground and helping Iris along behind him. They were both smudged with soot and their clothes were burned in multiple places, but at least they were upright.

They stopped in the melted doorway, watching as Cor gathered Reina gingerly into his arms once more. The pulse beat more steadily in her neck, now, in spite of the tumble.

"Is she…?" Ignis asked.

"She'll be fine." Cor climbed to his feet, ignoring the shooting pain in his knee, which objected to any weight, let alone the added weight that Reina presented. "Let's get her somewhere safe."

He had no concept of what sort of toll the ring took on people who used too much in too short a time, but at a glance, it seemed she would survive.

She had to survive.

He would never forgive himself, otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's dead! (Raucous cheering)
> 
> On Monday you all get the final chapter of Restored and the first chapter of Reckoning. As Ignis would say: brace yourselves. The end is nigh.


End file.
